Maps

No Trace

Follow me, she said,
but we both knew she knew not,
where she was going,
but I smiled and turned back towards the direction she was going,
and we were showing,
our teeth,
glaring a pale ivory yellow to any maybes hiding in the canopy,
follow me, she bled,
i hoped she was safe but safe she was not,
i couldn't protect her,
from my unwillingness to voice opposition to the position she sought,
and she was voicing the pain,
from the wound which stained,
leaving the white sand polka-dotted red,
follow me, i led,
her down the darkest passage i could find, but follow me she did not,
and i could barely make out her teeth,
when i finally turned around i looked at the sand that was my feet beneath,
the polka-dotted ground,
i tried to trace back,
but i couldn't turn my back,
and when i finally did, when i finally showed my teeth, when i was prepared to lead,
there was no trace, no space for error,
i knew that she knew not, but I never dared tell her.
art
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Reply #1 Top
it makes me so angry when such beautiful poetry gets no responses. As I've said before, though, know that everyone most likely has nothing valuable to add to something like this. Trinitie