I never said I would
ever write a poem
about us
writing about love
can’t have been
about us
those poems I never wrote
and never will write
about us
are like the tears
we’ve never shed
as they weren’t
about us
Fists balled in the hollow of the eyes Sat in the old, creaky wicker chair The scream stuck in the pharynx Blue-overalls despair taking ho...
No comments:
Post a Comment
Avis sur la chose en question
Feedback on the thing in question