Poetry Lost

My voice is strangled.
Without wings, it only whispers.
Behind rosy cheeks
I am ghost pale and blue lipped.
This supple skin is not mine.
I am old, wrinkled
brittle boned
dull eyed.
I splinter and I burn.
I’ve lost my poetry.

Reviews

[JP thinks the WC is apt..]

The poetry is your essence, that much is clear.

You put on a brave face - 'rosy cheeks' - but beneath it all, your vitality has been sapped by the loss.

A touching piece about passion and the loss of it. And the physical description can't possibly be you.

[J.P.O.et]

This makes me sad, but we can never lose our voice
and our ability to emote and communicate somehow.
Therefore we can't lose the most beautifull thing about us,
our minds and our 'poetry'
We get older and wiser and you have beauty far beyond your years

J.P.O.et