Ripped Jeans and White Robes

Ripped Jeans and White Robes

Ripped Jeans
and silk-screened shirts
Do just fine
to heal the hurt.

You're going from soft water
to sharp ice in seconds
But flash freezing your loyalty
Will only get you so far
and last so long.

Given enough time, you'll melt again
But damn, if you could only see how fast you turned
To pierce your friend.

So, yeah, my jeans have a new hole in the knee
But it's just a sign that they're familiar.
I've owned these pants for so much time, I'm surprised
it took them so long
to wear down.

We better patch it up
before I skin my knee--
You'll have to try harder than that to get my blood,
It runs a deep, strong red
And we wouldn't want to stain your beloved white robes, now,
would we?

If you like my writing, you can join the site to the right of the page, like Speaking with Storms on Facebook or follow me on Twitter and Google+ . If you have questions or just want to chat, I'm on Formspring too!

Thanks for reading. Go forth and do good things, my friends.

Ash

I've been away for a long, long time, and I'm sorry you all have been waiting for so long. I'll be more regular in the future. (I say that, but I don't know that for sure. Oh well.)

On a previous post, Burning Letters, I posted a piece called (You guessed it) Burning Letters that I said wasn't finished. I recently fixed it up, gave it a few new themes, a new ending, and a new title and all of this plastic surgery has (hopefully) created a better piece! Tell me what you think in the comments.

Ash

I liked you better when you were alive.
I'm pretty sure you would say the same about me, but
You've been gone for so long that I would rather remember you with a heartbeat
Than with ash slowly drifting up from within your throat,
Caught by the late autumn whispers.
I've burned a few letters to send to you, but I know I won't get a reply.
Turning cinders to paper is harder than the reverse.
I remembered your name today, after weeks of forgetfulness.
I took a sip of water to wash it down, but it got caught on the knot in my stomach.
I tried to wash away the soot but I couldn’t get rid of it,
You’re like smoke from a cigarette that I just can’t exhale.
So I’ll work to sweat you out,
I’ll stamp out the butt of the cig,
I’ll strengthen my lungs,
I’ll write about you and spit about you and tell everyone what happened to you
And I'll burn one last letter for you before I wash you down for good.

If you like my writing, you can join the site to the right of the page, like Speaking with Storms on Facebook or follow me on Twitter and Google+ . If you have questions or just want to chat, I'm on Formspring too!

Thanks for reading. Stay human, my friends.