Tickle

by Faithless Watermelon   Feb 22, 2016


Bubbles break on dancing skin,
promised kisses and innocent sins.
We're meant to be the sky.
I know we're here but where am I?
Wandering little spiders giggle in the grass,
the sparkling eyes become a deep morass.

The party swoons, I bare my teeth -
can't feel the world the way it needs to be.
Nervous smiles are fragile toys;
my darling prince, am I a monster?
It's trivial to me, the time that we're apart -
something's wrong; nightmare's song.. is it dark?

Where is the waking world, or at least her pity?
I've always thought that tired ghosts are pretty.
We're meant to be the sky!
A sullen pulse lies that I don't want to die!
I'm devious of heart and maybe that's unholy.
For the little spiders, I might learn the future, slowly.

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Latest Comments

  • 8 years ago

    by Ben Pickard

    "I've always thought the tired ghosts are pretty"

    ^^^^

    What an excellent line in a very good and uniquely penned poem.

    All the very best,
    Ben

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