Maria MacIntyre Poems

Your blind eyes close with age
Skin so cold, painted porcelain like dolls
You lay peacefully with content printed forcefully across your face
The rain falls into your new home for ages,
...

There I lay, waste on my fingers from regret and temptation.
Emptied and fragile to the world
Constant thoughts permanent to my brain putting me down
Burning inside and pulling, fighting the feeling with liquid and television
...