Sunday Hearts

Sunday hearts are always broken
Smothered cries and smashed up hope.
Waking up with cotton heads
Gritty eyes and unmade beds
Last night's debris on the floor
An upturned glass in pools of clothes
Crumpled paper, reams of dreams
Drunken thoughts of what it means.
Lost in answers never spoken
A half forgotten lovers token.
Sunday hearts are lost forever
Sandpit tongues and swollen eyes
Silence thronging all around
A plaintive mewing the only sound.
Body bears the weight of bruises
In sheet mark tides on lonely skins
And in the distance bells are ringing
Rafters rise with children's singing
Yet all alone, you lie and cry
As Sunday beats just fade and die.




Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 667 times
Written on 2008-05-23 at 10:29

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BlueyedSoul
oh elle! this is truly amazing work.
you make the reader feel and identify with
every emotion.
~blue xo
2008-05-23


Stan Cooper The PoetBay support member heart!
Wow Elle...how will you make it through Monday

good poem

xxxx Stan
2008-05-23


Christian Lanciai The PoetBay support member heart!
A masterpiece! Who hasn't woken up on the wrong day on a Sunday? "Sunday, bloody Sunday!"
2008-05-23