skies, that are the color
of the water left behind,
after doing the dishes.
clouds, that are so hope-
lessly pathetic. they hang
there; kinda doing their own
thing.
kisses, that are so full of
passion, and fill the space
of a thousand words.
no grief. just understanding.
understanding that makes your
lips sore.
raincoats, that look poetic.
unbuttoned, and collars flapping
limply. rainy days do no justice.
red raincoats, and dreams of
naughtiness.
cigarettes, smoked to the end.
an orange flame, in the darkness.
leaning against the wall; a careful
posture that's been practiced, and
eventually mastered.
roses, with thorns cut off
with a pair of kitchen scissors.
shaking hands, and nervous smiles.
poetry written on napkins, delivered
with blatant awkwardness. a messy scrawl
with black biro; words that say much more
than a mouth could.
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 2:18 AM UTC
skies, that are the color
of the water left behind,
after doing the dishes.
clouds, that are so hope-
lessly pathetic. they hang
there; kinda doing their own
thing.
kisses, that are so full of
passion, and fill the space
of a thousand words.
no grief. just understanding.
understanding that makes your
lips sore.
raincoats, that look poetic.
unbuttoned, and collars flapping
limply. rainy days do no justice.
red raincoats, and dreams of
naughtiness.
cigarettes, smoked to the end.
an orange flame, in the darkness.
leaning against the wall; a careful
posture that's been practiced, and
eventually mastered.
roses, with thorns cut off
with a pair of kitchen scissors.
shaking hands, and nervous smiles.
poetry written on napkins, delivered
with blatant awkwardness. a messy scrawl
with black biro; words that say much more
than a mouth could.
i'm just raging poetic, i guess.
Request permission to use this poem