Ravens & Razor Blades

25 Comments

Tags:
  • Loss
  • ,
  • Sadness

    Ravens & Razor Blades

    One more breath,
    as the tears form the story of disbelief around my heart.
    And now...
    You're gone.

    Schraded razor blades
    meet warm, veined flesh.
    The tender skin parts at the
    blunt force of metal,
    spilling crimson on the epidermis.

    The broken trust
    leaks ravens and magpies across my perfect sky.
    I guess now,
    is the time,
    to learn how to live life without you.

    By: Brandi Deacon
    2010

    Poem Comments

    (25)

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    DiStefano commented on Ravens & Razor Blades

    03-12-2011

    you carry around a soul that has seen many lifetimes, my dear.

    BringMeBullets

    03/25/2011

    Thank you. :)

    Qualin commented on Ravens & Razor Blades

    01-20-2011

    SEEMS ALL YOUNG ARE DEPENDANT ON THAT TRUE LOVE AS ONCED EXPERIANCED MANY YEARS AGO I AS YOU WILL THINK BACK AND LAUGH AT THE WORDS THAT ONCE SEEMED TO CONTROLL YOUR EXISTANCE ARE FOOLISH!!! FOR SOMEONE YOUR AGE WITH YOUR ABILITIES A LOST LOVE IS THEIR LOSS,AND KNOWLEDGE TO YOU...IF YOU LOOK UPON IT AS BEING SO!!! AS ALWAYS YOUR FRIEND....QUALIN GOOD WRITE!!!!

    BringMeBullets

    03/25/2011

    Thank you. :)

    LexLogic commented on Ravens & Razor Blades

    12-26-2010

    The loss of love has a tendency suck the meaning out of life. I have felt your poem, and its final conclusion. I do wish it was longer though." The broken trust leaks ravens and magpies across my perfect sky" favorite part

    BringMeBullets

    03/25/2011

    Thank you. :)

    Crush commented on Ravens & Razor Blades

    10-15-2010

    i like sitting here watching and reading your mind expand and contract as i my mind does the same. you are a genius of expression. crazy pictures funnelled into a deeper vision and understanding....i love it. 10 and going into favourites. wow, and 18 ?

    BringMeBullets

    12/21/2010

    Haha. Yes, 18. And thank you, it is an honor. :)

    Charlie23 commented on Ravens & Razor Blades

    10-06-2010

    I thought suicide at first then I wasn't quite sure -- powerfully worded poem though!

    BringMeBullets

    12/21/2010

    Oh, thank you. :)

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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