4 years ago1,000+ Views
Some hands build and some hands break. For the longest time only she could see that his were capable of both. She forgave him she said. But how can something be forgiven if it hasn't been forgotten? Peculiar that a repeat offender would find offense in the difficulty to cope with such intertwined yet juxtaposing emotions. Pain behind every smile. Comfort dripping with every tear. But that ended weeks ago, and I believe him this time. . . She's unbreakable now. Even if old wounds were to reopen, the formaldehyde couldn't stain her new, swan-white dress like the blood used to. I haven't seen her at peace since she was my little angel. But she's an angel of a different sort now, lying in a bed of maple wood and fresh roses. And God she looks beautiful. -TH
Amazing work!
Very dark and very powerful.
awesome work!
@THThomas Thankfully, you don't have to be educated in poetry to write great poetry! The education bit just gives you different tools to work with, though that doesn't necessarily mean they're better than the ones you already have. And wow, what meaning behind those hands: I'd love to read a piece just about that difference: war and peace, literally.
And thanks, I like that line too. Hands that build and break is something I thought of in bootcamp, for the first couple months everything was violent and I got so used to it that when the priest put his hand on my shoulder before mass it actually shocked me. It felt so different
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