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Shell

by Anita Mac

Is your handwriting still typewriter-neat,
or have the ruler marks abandoned your wrists for good?

I long for a shift in your character
to posthumously justify my depths
and the way you wore them skeletal.

You left me cold and aloof to an untrained eye.

I have black holes of fiery passion in
my gut, my head and my heart.

10/04/2010

Posted on 10/05/2010
Copyright © 2024 Anita Mac

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Ava Blu on 10/05/10 at 01:31 PM

A punch in few words, my dear.

Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 10/05/10 at 01:52 PM

Sharp from start to finish. I love this thing.

Posted by V. Blake on 10/05/10 at 06:54 PM

I have most certainly missed your poems, Anita. This is like a blunt weapon.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/06/10 at 12:42 AM

I love the brevity and the knife-sharp declarations.

Posted by Therese Elaine on 10/06/10 at 03:33 AM

This is shocking the way a stripped down cadaver is, post-autopsy, the pain of reminiscence before you bury the body...really wonderfully done, Anita.

Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 10/07/10 at 12:02 AM

like an anvil of crusted guts...ugh, but mmm. pretty in a sensationally heartbreaking way. i love a lot of words in here...it's a short little list of everything that makes you want to cry and choke. love it.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 10/08/10 at 04:32 PM

Like someone just walked over my grave, chilling well worded message to some poor soul who did ya wrong. Thought provoking read.

Posted by Laurie Blum on 10/11/10 at 03:44 AM

Delightfully clever and entertaining. Nicely done.

Posted by Laura Doom on 10/22/10 at 04:10 PM

...but your fingers are still doing the business...
:>

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