Spilt Milk

White and cool it swirled about my kitchen floor,
The cruel, lethargic dripping, ticking like the clock,
Echoed harshly against my silence; forced my escape

-I stepped outside my skin and fell from shock-

I lay on the black of my kitchen floor and felt
A thousand blows from simple past mistakes,
As if I had never sensed them before this moment.

-How much longer will this mourning take?-

I tried to tempt myself out with another glass of milk
When I climbed into the pool of self pity and wallowed there
But I howled merely that I would spill it again

-From my lips escaping the last pretty breath of air-

I watched, detached as the final part of me died,
As my skin became cold, and white, and smooth like silk,
An ironic twist of beauty to this tragic mental death...

-It was all fine before I spilt the milk-

Reviews

[-Aurelia Mirella]

I'll have to agree with the person before me, this was a strange poem, and yet..I really enjopyed it!

Definately orginal, and unexpected.

Wonderful job. :]

Always,
-Aurelia Mirella

NOOOO you shouldn't have spilt the milk...
what a trully strange poem, but i like it so it's all cool ^^
i actually thought it might be funny because of the spilt milk.. for some reason i thought i would be a humorous murder.. but i still like it
-ST