Authors of Pain


Long, drawn-out sighs
loop our lives together.
Moments of despair,
thoughts of tired anguish,
condensing the air between us.

It is in the shadows of a darkened room
that I find the differences
between who you believe yourself to be
and who I know I am.

You are the quill pen, green and gray ink,
who scratches out harsh thoughts
between your thighs and across my back.
Your nib places your words
into flesh and composing sweat.

I smudge single syllables
in the language of loins
and sobbing mouths
across my face for all to see,
using fingertips
and my own blood.

It is only those repeated moments
those fleeting seconds
that our far flung sentences find each other.
We become the same writer
with different diction
writing on a snow bank
waiting for Spring.

©2014 Christopher Reilley

I would love to know what you thought about this piece. Please consider leaving a comment.

Popular Posts