Skip to main content

maybe she shouldn't care
about the yet unread poem she wrote

her inner most fears displayed like a nude model on canvas
ready to be gawked upon
waiting for scrutiny, dissection

in view but out of reach
as he tucks it into his pocket

bared to him
dread settles into her bones


Popular posts from this blog

nighttime sounds: an owl in a tree, wind rustling the remaining leaves gnarly branches, black against the moon the sweetest dreams, taking residence in my heart you & I an impossible possibility the sheets will not reveal my secrets

In silence

never would there evermore a song upon a breeze for music has forsaken us went lost among the trees now darkness has surrounded us and vanquished all the light in silence now we just await the visitor in the night