Poems from rhiasofia
one two three
around a table
cups of tea
untouched, going cold
tear-stained eyes
stare off at nothing
faces red
and bodies shaking...
He lounges,
Surprisingly reticent for
the hard harsh brash hash of
straight-back, straight-act,
lines that criss-cross...
Her eyes have sprung leaks
bitter rain, acid rain,
flushed out through the
pitched eaves of her face
as she whispers to herself,
her voice...
It amazes me how
when ordered to perform,to learn, to create
I may spend countless hours
staring into the blank recesses of
textbook pages...
I want it to be like this;
swadde in blankets smelling of you, I
stretch free of that innocent outer skin
of childhood, easily, like...