They've become a rainforest.
your eyes drip off of leaves,
pouring from tips of branches-
scrunched in, your shoulders
dictate stories of pain,
with knees curled in, knuckles
white, clenched and sweaty,
whimpers escape lips,
reliving memories:
mother stalking closets,
slamming doors,
stomping steps,
shouting obscenities but-
The belt is put away,
rib cages no longer bruised,
all left behind.
Take a step;
Take a breath;
Let me in.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
They've become a rainforest.
your eyes drip off of leaves,
pouring from tips of branches-
scrunched in, your shoulders
dictate stories of pain,
with knees curled in, knuckles
white, clenched and sweaty,
whimpers escape lips,
reliving memories:
mother stalking closets,
slamming doors,
stomping steps,
shouting obscenities but-
The belt is put away,
rib cages no longer bruised,
all left behind.
Take a step;
Take a breath;
Let me in.
