Lights out, I'm Done.

March 31, 2014

I've become a city.

Full of flavor, diversity

The ugly, savory, and the sweet.

Dusty flowers and crackling lights

Adorn me

Like the memories I've thrown up on my wooden shoes.

Some tar and roses, that is

(What a disappointment)

Grab your coffee and a backpack,

We'll have an adventure.

But there's too much brightness and slimy front porches I've stood on

And no longer a grainy story to tell.

I've burnt my hair and cinched my fingers with my wooden shoes

And wooden soul

I've attracted the flames,

Have I started burning in thin air?

Did my words come too soon?

Fretted with ash and

Bombed, dirty city walls.

Signposts, lamps, lightbulbs,

The kind that get me in my dreams.

Explosions of light and friendly darkness.

I've exhaled a blackout,

And the air has dazzled and

Exhausted all the daggers left

On my cotton tongue.

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.