a poem by Anthony Liccione

knife

this knife
cuts like
the night,
a thick,
deep stab
that bleeds
photos of
your smile

the blade,
your tongue
its icy
reflection
of words,
that cannot
be taken back,

electric eyes
sharply
tearing at me,
inching the
incision,
into weeks,
months,
years

of love
that was
once like
a scissor
of seasons,

cutting out
the springs
and summers,
and falling
into a lifeless
winter.

© by Anthony Liccione
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #10 ~ July 2010