2/17/11

Throb
By Sara Grayum


My doctors running tests to make sure I’m not hollow.

I told him how you’d make this chest throb

Like a bruise given to me in third grade. How

Our sweat made us glisten in the morning

Sun, like stars forgotten. But that heart,

like a porcelain lamp has since been cracked,

gathering dust and awaiting glue.

He says I sure could benefit from you.

The sound I make as the stethoscope hits my bare

Skin, is as empty as a bottle of whiskey at 5 A.M.


- - -
I've got my head in the clouds and my heart firmly planted in reality.
I own two blind chihuaha's, and one very high maintenance cat by the name of Jezebel.
I write for fun and/or because when my heart gets trampled on it helps to spew out my thoughts via poetry, ect.