Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Your loving whispers are sour nothings in my ear, Your reassurances raise the bile of rage in my throat, And then I want to spend my fists on nearby walls, Every hole is the love letter you deserve.
0
Jul 7, 2020
Jul 7, 2020 at 7:34 AM UTC
Bile
Your loving whispers are sour nothings in my ear, Your reassurances raise the bile of rage in my throat, And then I want to spend my fists on nearby walls, Every hole is the love letter you deserve.
Some people just have that effect.
Written by
Jul 7, 2020
Jul 7, 2020 at 7:34 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem