Strewn across the grass
I stare at the sky
So changing
and yet always in the same place
My skin is vulnerable
to the gentle breeze
My hair lacerates my cheeks
no serious injuries whatsoever
Blood doesn’t exist
The sky looks
purple and blue above me
Darker and less fragile
The sun sets
I search for reason
The sun sets
I’m vulnerable.

© Copyright July 2009

4 thoughts on “Vulnerable

  1. The sun, setting, drags reason along with her, down into her Nether,
    Reason does not survive outside the illusion bestowed on her by light.

    Now, the reddish ocean left lingering between earth and sky,
    Takes cover in the womb of night, waiting, morning’s breath of light.

    • I really, really like this. It’s beautiful, more beautiful than mine. I wouldn’t say mine is beautiful…that’s just how I am. You’re a very talented poet. Thanks for commenting. =)

  2. It’s the feeling that carries on his shoulders, that elevates us into the heights of intoxicated-imagination, and that seeps through us taking the form of artistic creation, this alone is what matters. What later is cast as labels, whether for beauty or ugliness are irrelevant to me. I create for myself.

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