It's so silent you could
Cut the air,
Cut it up
into a million pieces,
Pick up the shards
with your hands,
of lost wishes.

Can you weigh
the silence
in your bony hands,
Can you feel the cold,
hard glass
against your fingernails.

by Paper Cut

Other poems of CUT (4)

Comments (1)

This is an interesting piece of work. I like the concept. Thanks.