by Barry Franklin

I want to run with you.
But my running shoes are in
     very bad repair.
My shoelaces untied, I might
trip and fall.
I might skin my heart.
And then I have this habit
     of picking at the scabs.

They never heal.


Posted on 10/10/2008
Copyright © 2023 Barry Franklin

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 10/11/08 at 03:13 AM

Excellent analogy Barry of love and the after effect if it goes wrong.

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