Broken Nails and Butter Knives

By Melody McCoy-Cole

Trapped under starlight,

Where’s the moon?

There are no clouds,

So where are you?

All I can do is wonder,

Now, How? And why?

You’re not here,

 And I’m left with broken nails and butter knives.

Petty voices on my mind,

Be aware of things in time,

Each blood drop dripped,

And water spilled,

Another fear teared open,

At will,

With my broken nails and butter knives.

Broken nails and butter knives,

Carve the picture in my head,

Go to bed now dear,

Let your dreams come true,

I’d be afraid if I were you,

Little sing along songs,

Next to the frame of memories,

Reverse the past,

Cast the spell,

Rebound the unraveling threads,

Before your amount of time is dead,

With broken nails and butter knives.

A beautiful image of myself,

Perfection a glory,

And a want,

Welcome to the world of hate and awe,

Happiness and sorrow hand in hand,

Falling down slowly like quicksand,

Stick figures fighting,

Round and round,

Spear my heart,

With broken nails and butter knives.

Break your sharp tooth, 

On my red fingers,

Crimson tongues speak the truth,

Lies are told by mouths of green,

Cut your face with my dull knife,

Seep out the ugly you think people see,

Away from light,

You hide your tears,

But if sought out,

Your thoughts in knots,

Don’t judge or hypnotize,

You’re just like me,

With broken nails and butter knives.

By Melody McCoy-Cole