Surgically Lost

~I spent too much money on a fancy certificate~

I want to stare into your eyes

Peer through the frostbitten windows to your soul

I’ll study for a decade to become a neurosurgeon  

So I can cut open your head

Touch your thoughts with my fingertips

You’re a glass bottle

Neither filled with affection

Nor a hidden massage

There’s rubber stopper on your emotions

Watered down soda

Left ten years to age like fine wine

I want to open you up

You’re the roughened paperback I never got to read

Scotch tape down the sides

Along the back

Missing pages

Cracked spine

Cheese dust is trapped between the bindings

Scattered mouldy secrets

I want to stare into your eyes

Peer through the broken windows to your soul

But the sun has gone down

Laid to rest

It’s too dark to see

I should never have gotten

That medical degree

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Should i have laughed at that final line?!
Reading through your poem, slowly, focussed.. i realised that there wasn't finger-tip following each thought but a blade, cutting open the object of your adoration. I so hope she, if there is a she, appreciates your words... and has plenty of surgical plasters readily available

A tongue in cheek, inventive, strange piece of writing, worthy of a few more reviews. .

[Cloudtreesium]

Your description and review of my work is very much appreciated. Thank you!

[emmajoy]

You're welcome.