Define This

You read blind.

Force these words to fall,

drip off the page like leaked saline.

Your tongue trips

stumbles drunk

abusing rhythmic sensations.

It blends

mashes

and bleeds them into one another.

Vibrant watercolors, grouped brown.

Your eyes appear fixated

but your mind is off in other worlds.

 

Words carry life.

They float

flutter

and come back to me.

Cry for detection,

but you throw them away.

Spitting on philosophies,

verses drool from corners

of a lazy mouth.

Elegant phrases, dried crusty white

Monotone murderer.

You read my words

and break me every time.

 

These words

are my words

pulsing through me.

You read them like you did

every other poem of mine

every other work of art,

eyes blurred

out of focus

brushed off

crumbled

and thrown away.

But this time

you failed to notice

that these words

 

were my words

 

of leaving you…

 

 

– Breelyn Shelkey

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