Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2023

Turning her head
as if to  bury  it all
back under the covers..
This hiding away
from me

from everything  about me
that could hold her

right where she is at--
This crazy holding

That cannot stop itself
That cannot keep  from doing
what it does
That cannot control itself
from what  it feels

every  time  she  shows  me
(who it is that she is)


She is anything
but a death  to me
whenever she sings,


whenever  she..


.     .     .

.."Wish I could write songs
about anything other than death
But I can't go to bed
without drawing the red,
shaving off breaths;

Each one so heavy,
each one so cumbersome
Each one a lead weight
hanging between my lungs

Spilling my guts,
sweat on a microphone,
breaking my voice
Whenever I'm alone with you,
can't talk,
but

"Isn't this weather nice?
Are you okay?
Should I go somewhere else
and hide my face?"

A sprinter,  learning a way..
A marathon runner,
my ankles are sprained

A marathon runner
my ankles are sprained
https://youtu.be/cjNKph5z3-I

a beautiful, sprained-ankle Angel
<3
F Unting  Charlie Kilo
Written by
F Unting Charlie Kilo  حفظك الله ❤
(حفظك الله ❤)   
1.7k
       naǧí, Ayesha and TSPoetry
Please log in to view and add comments on poems