10-14-2008, 05:08 PM
Wrote this poem in my creative writing group today. It is about a friend who used to be addicted to his mothers painkillers. she would only give them to him when she was in a good mood and leave him in withdrawal the rest of the time.
She feeds them like sweets when you have been good
One for sorrow and two for joy
White in colour, dazzling like two silver moons
in the night sky.
They taste bitter at first, like her words or
the scilence she evokes,
which clenches like barb wire in the throat.
The stomach aches for them,
but when they hit its like
morphine to the dying soul.
They disperse in the stomach and
sit comfortably like an old friend
taking your'e hand and
Saying it's all right
everything is going
to be ok.
She feeds them like sweets when you have been good
One for sorrow and two for joy
White in colour, dazzling like two silver moons
in the night sky.
They taste bitter at first, like her words or
the scilence she evokes,
which clenches like barb wire in the throat.
The stomach aches for them,
but when they hit its like
morphine to the dying soul.
They disperse in the stomach and
sit comfortably like an old friend
taking your'e hand and
Saying it's all right
everything is going
to be ok.
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