Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
No eyes watch this tongues bitter mornings. My mother doesn't even know I drink coffee. The trails know my footprints better then any memory of a boy who left behind me. I have a drawer of broken headphones and nails bitten down to the bone my birthday present was a lock on the door. How do you look at somebody-how do you blink your eyes? Make me cry, I'd love to do it too. High and dry on a Friday, I've made nothing in awhile. veins still pump with the devils pulse I'm orange with ****** desire. stuck in neutral attached to your words, not you.
0
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 1:54 PM UTC
my declaration of independence
No eyes watch this tongues bitter mornings. My mother doesn't even know I drink coffee. The trails know my footprints better then any memory of a boy who left behind me. I have a drawer of broken headphones and nails bitten down to the bone my birthday present was a lock on the door. How do you look at somebody-how do you blink your eyes? Make me cry, I'd love to do it too. High and dry on a Friday, I've made nothing in awhile. veins still pump with the devils pulse I'm orange with ****** desire. stuck in neutral attached to your words, not you.
Tori_Ginter
Written by
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 1:54 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem