Straight-Edge
I found my edge
The one I cut myself on every day
The knife
The blade
Your smile
Your ache
The way you look at me
The way you don't see me
It cuts me to the core
The way you dance around the truth
Like it was a hot fire
Those careless words
Slice up my heart
Like it was a ripe tomato
The juice squirts out
The blood spurts out
Then I go home
To bandage my wounds
Apply the salve
Rescue my self-esteem
From the garbage can
You threw it away so gleefully
Trying to score a couple points
I've found my edge
The blade of your laughter
The razor of your smile.
© Anne Westlund 2007
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 652 times
Written on 2007-10-12 at 08:01
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