Sunday Drive, by Loneliness is condescending Subscribe to rss feed for Loneliness is condescending

I left you sleeping in a white chalk outline
Head rested on asphalt pillows 
Sweetly covered in star embroidered cloth 
Never had you looked so beautiful
With moon kissed cheeks
Flashing sirens to sing your lullaby 

Hidden securely in a clutter room to match your mind 
Comforted by the security of the darkened eye
In hopes that the silence will break 
The bright lights shoving you farther behind the screen 
To a stone cheek the final kiss is given 
And buried with your innocence 

A racing heart loosing pace
To far back to be seen 
Harsh whispers rise above the prayer 
I know they speak of me
The crunching of the dirt reminds me of the past
How fast could I go? 
Posted: 2005-10-14 01:34:08 UTC

This poem has no votes yet. To vote, you must be logged in.
To leave comments, you must be logged in.

2005-10-19 17:27:10Sandwich Massacre
i lost myself in that poem. its a nine. its simply a nine.

2006-10-06 16:02:20lost the lonely dead
wOw