Her heart ripped her apart. Now it’s my part to take all her wrath. Sharp as diamond knife cuts through me to end her life.
Oh, my pain, is it her gain? Oh, will this cut, erase her hurt? Oh, will this wound, do any good?
I froze as her blood flows. I feel the nerves died as her heart tries to decide. To beat or not to beat. To live or not to live.
©2015 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Enkivillage
In response to Writing 201 Day 3 assignment:
Day 3: Skin, Prose Poem, Internal Rhyme
Our skin often announces (correctly or not) our age and ethnicity, tells stories of injuries, operations, and accidents, and conveys to our brain everything from the pain of a slap to the warmth of a hug.
Skins aren’t only a human thing: they protect animals, fruit, cheese, and more. For today’s poem, choose whatever meaning of “skin” speaks to you the most.
I never thought that I can tell a fictional story through poetry. Not until I have read some awesome poems from some of the great poets from Writing 201: Poetry class.
So inspired by your very well-written posts, I humbly present this another FIRST prose poem from yours truly.
Please feel free to give unbiased and truly honest feedbacks.
As a newbie I will surely appreciate it.