I think a lot…
most often of you.
But then,
you knew that,
didn’t you…
When my gaze
falls across your face
your eyes burn holes
in distant walls
If you struck me
across the cheek
a sweeter tear
would come to my eye
For your bitterness
has become
a wall of crust
And I have grown weary
of wielding the chisel
— 01:35:27 AM
[1820]
link to this page: <a href="http://opalcat.com/Creative_Writing/poem-chisels">OpalCat.com: Poem: "Chisels"</a>
