Murderous Poetess



She paints the world in pretty words

A magic that creates beauty heard

And like a donkey tethered to cart

Her words pull constantly on my heart


For little does she know the depth

To which her subtle words in breath

Do pierce and pain this troubled soul

Now bound upon her whipping pole


Each eloquent and pointed phrase

Brings to light the hardest days

They burrow their way easy through

To reveal a man I never knew


And in amongst her words so rife

Is found a reflection of my life

Did she write words just for me

But how could that possibly be


She would not recognize my face

Yet, in her words I find a trace

Of things I keep from showing

Written with a style of knowing


Each day I die just a little more

Can’t be the man I was before

Her verses set my truths all free

As she kills me with her poetry




13 Responses to “Murderous Poetess”
  1. beth says:

    a slow, painful death, but maybe see it as a rebirth?

  2. Francisco Bravo Cabrera says:

    Beautiful…reminds me of what I’ve always said, I don’t want a love that brings me gifts, flowers or Valentines, I want a love that dies for me, for a love that dies for me will never die…

  3. Jim Borden says:

    “And like a donkey tethered to cart

    Her words pull constantly on my heart”

    what a great line…

    and hopefully we are never the same person we were the day before…

    wonderful poem, Brad.

  4. kristianw84 says:

    So elegant and lovely! 😍

  5. jonicaggiano says:

    This is a lovely poem Brad. Touches my heart. I often wonder when I write a poem if it relates to any others who read it in a deep way. I am certainly affected by others writings as I am by yours. I write truth and I think often it is too much for some. But I do it anyway. I think you too write truth. Your words are special and beautiful Brad. Sending love and hugs πŸ€— Jonikins

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