Ballpoint

Discussion in 'Poetry Realm' started by TheInkwell, May 20, 2012.

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  1. TheInkwell

    TheInkwell New Member

    Joined:
    May 6, 2011
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    This was never a choice.
    Held up at ballpoint, ink stained
    Like a tattoo smeared across my veins
    Like graffiti on a high way
    No fear of the collision.
    This is Hemingway’s Old Man
    With his skin pressed
    Open
    Only to return a skeleton of what was.
    He’s still better for it.
    The sound of scribbles pieced together
    Into a beautiful tangle
    A mess I’ve learned to press
    Together
    Into solidarity. A foundation
    That concedes experience
    With each purposed step.
    test
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