DetailsThe poem, its numbers, and the conversation.

Words (Final Version)

Member since 2005 · Posted 30 Aug 2006 · Edited 11 Oct 2006 · 3 comments

You wore your heart on your sleeve and poured your soul out to us but no words came. You spoke of heartache and pain and threatened us with death every day but no words came. You lay there, wrists as wide as our eyes. Regret covering your lifeless face. But no words come.

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3 comments

[7] Dovina 30-Aug-06/8:18 PM Reply

I'm sure it's a tramatic event, but something is lost to me in the poetry. She (I assume she) is in your arms with her wrists cut opened, and she's alive enough to shed tears and talk of angels. Then she dies. And the only concern exoressed in the poem is that no words came to the narrator. It seems that action to stop the bleeding would be a greater concern. So there is something going on that I'm not getting from the poem.

[9] Ranger › Dovina 11-Oct-06/12:56 PM Reply

Not necessarily. There was a story here recently about a guy whose girlfriend committed suicide. She was terminally depressed and had tried to kill herself before. He didn't try to save her life, just held her for the whole day as she died so she wouldn't die alone. The poem reminded me strongly of that.

[9] Ranger 11-Oct-06/12:56 PM Reply

Don't like the initial cliche (wearing heart on sleeve), the rest is fine.