Critic (Tales Of A Tired Mind Poetry)
She had more talent in her lips
than he had in his entire Catalogue.
When she spoke
the animals all cocked their heads,
hair stood on end.
When he wrote,
nobody listened.
We’re all just beasts trying to feel human.
Beasts with blood on our hands
and blood in our mouths.
But she spoke like a tourniquet,
cutting off all our loss
with each turn of a page.
He’d gnaw at the edges
when he could…
just to watch her bleed.
Providing an endless supply of
Warm
Red
Ink
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Tales Of A Tired Mind Poetry. I am honored to share this poem with you, and I hope you'll check out more of this poet's work. Tales of A Tired Mind Poetry can be found at the links below.
Featured Photo for this poem by Art Lasovsky on Unsplash
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