image

by Arphot.diviantart.com

There are no more walls in my house.
I hang my pictures on the air.
My carpet is made of grass and moss.
My bed is the corn husks of your heart.
Your mind is the fire for my stove.
I cook my soup with your words.
I have no need for plates or bowls,
As I dine on the wisdom of your soul.
I have no need for tinted windows,
Nor drawn curtains and closed shutters.
I have no roof, no floor, no doors.
And thanks to you, no secrets any more.
I have nothing left in life to hide.
Now that you have robbed me blind.

© 2012, DeanWalker. All rights reserved.

DeanWalker (10 Posts)


6 Comments

  1. So much pain, but so beautifully written, Dean.

  2. This is a great poem Dean, well done on this. Whatever was in you at the time seems to have just flowed out…amazing, carnage of the heart and the picture fits perfectly.

  3. Dean, I think the Everly Brothers said it best: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Z3qOzsVviI So sad.

  4. Wow what a wonderfully angst ridden and descriptive, visual piece of writing this is. And the visual certainly helps! Horrible when it’s so hard to move on from something for sure.

    Love everything about this Dean, wonderful reading.

    Pete

  5. Wow..that’s cold Dean. It’s something how love can leave you desolate. But..this is a great way to fire back. Awesomely Dreadful. I love this.

  6. Risha

    Dean – Wow, what a powerful poem. Sad, beautiful and deep. Thanks.

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