Each Piece

Here it is.

my crumbling confession,
Your voice it rings like iron
in my hammering heart.
It is that no one
thinks of you
quite the way I do.
Though even the days
have fallen to dust,
undefined.
the names of the months
have been lost to the years.
but my plight,
it remains much the same.
The hallway leads,
with footsteps, heavy.
the door swings open
on bold hinges, unrestrained.
On you.
a force firm against
my cage of ribs,
in hot whispers,
you say that you are broken,
and depart like a thief.
Leave my lips ripe cherries
and my hair in tangles.
I know what each piece feels like
each time.
know what guilt tastes like on the tip
of tongue lashes.
know of dirt and of sin.
I grow weary in this haven.
waiting, wondering
but biting on sharp words.
What will bring you home?
What will make you stay?

Reviews

[DCT ponderings]

This felt like a mistress's lament to me. Wanting so much more but willing letting months roll into years. Always waiting, wondering
but biting on sharp words.
What will bring you home?
What will make you stay?

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

I am always so taken with your creative style that sometimes I am left without words... you again play out little scenes so easy to see and grip us with intense emotion... this is truly a great confessional of a broken heart wanting the pieces back right or wrong.

[Flo_writer]

The tale of a passionate argument ensued
and a lover retreats.
Home sweet Home his where all men travel
once the world defeats.
It will bring him home
But you shall make him stay.

Brilliant Poetry, I love it.