my unbound hands traced the price
and it was more than what I had prayed for
I sat here brooding for hours
over stitches that were never clean enough
and wounds that unknowingly open
just for the heck of opening
I watched the shadow hover above my head last night
as my body spiraled around the studio
while my feet tried to reclaim its former glory
the price
for wrong decisions that were corrected
for impatient strides that were retraced
and for love, love that has turned sour overnight.
No comments:
Post a Comment