HG
Bruising my lip,
with chattering teeth,
I cannot wash away the blood
or forget the floors beneath.
He's lying there.
As white as snow.
Was it seconds, now,
or months ago?
I rock on my heels
back and forth.
Where's my destination?
East or North?
The blood is stuck in my nails.
My hair is red too.
I would scrub some more,
But I can't push through the barriers which are tying me tight to my bed.
I saw the handprint.
I thought he was dead.
My face is aching.
But I won't let it rest.
Why should I sleep soundly,
while he is put to the test?
I'd never noticed his eyes.
Fathomless and dark.
His eyelids flickered
and hope jolted with a spark.
Biting my cheek,
and pinching my thumb,
I await the dawn,
and miss the arms of my mum.
I love reviews. And poetry.