Day 23
and if you never see the light of day
when lips are tight, and hope is safely locked
behind them, wincing like a cornered prey
my arms are open, I’m your toughest rock
where night meets death, and you stand inbetween
your lips go white, your hands ball into fists
the future in your eyes, a mere sheen
my open arms are bleeding at the wrists
when you can see in every aging man
yourself and stop to check if you still breathe
that day the war is lost forever and
my arms will close around you in a wreath
Prompt: a historic poem.
By way of comment, I'd say there's a feel of history to the poem, rather than direct historic connotation or any connection to a historic event. The atmosphere around two people in the poem is created in a way of a 'stage' on which you can put any two people, whether lovers or otherwise, in your imagination.
*********************************************************************************Ennui
and if you never see the light of day
when lips are tight, and hope is safely locked
behind them, wincing like a cornered prey
my arms are open, I’m your toughest rock
where night meets death, and you stand inbetween
your lips go white, your hands ball into fists
the future in your eyes, a mere sheen
my open arms are bleeding at the wrists
when you can see in every aging man
yourself and stop to check if you still breathe
that day the war is lost forever and
my arms will close around you in a wreath
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