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Burns And Blisters

Rating: 5.0

I'm afraid promises burst as a child's balloons
on barbed-wires, not that smooth like bubbles
do on Grandpa's backyard mud-pool. Nothing's

worth watching rubbles, crumpled drink-cans,
iron-sheets all perforated and rusted, and piles
of useless furnishings under neon-lights. Yet I look

on and read suicide bombings somewhat trendy
now on dailies and your text message: I can't bear

this load of your love that must fall like a boulder. Tell
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Sunday, June 21, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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