Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2016
And then she was a chasm,
A cavity of weakness;
Void of throat shredding screams,
Drowning in mind mincing whispers.
She is now hollow of all
But a single reverberating beat
Clawing at the Heaven she yearns for.

But she is now a chasm,
A cavity of sorrow;
She found the space behind her ears
Home to hundred-legged creatures;
Her mouth's roof now scarred
From the family of nesting bats;
The glow worms that once illuminated her dark eyes
Sleep.

That is all she will ever be:
A Chasm.
Her bones broke when she joined the mountain side.
Muscles turned to moss, skin to crumbling stone.
Her lashes are now the stalagmites and stalactites
And although she did not open her eyes to this,
She is no neophyte to the mountain's arms.
She simply allows herself to forget for a time.
1/13/16
C. E. Smith

Sometimes I just lay in bed and a phrase comes to me and I have to write about it: "And then she was a chasm." What does that mean to you?
Carsyn Smith
Written by
Carsyn Smith  PA, USA
(PA, USA)   
737
   GaryFairy and Careena
Please log in to view and add comments on poems