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summer-winchesterPoems
Dear girl, Your words are carefully Chosen Leaves on a twig Writhing Drifting Hitting the silence With a loud Clunk Dear girl, Your shouts are Forks On a porcelain shard Screeching Burst-your-eyes silver Obscenities Shattering the hearts With a loud Clank Dear Boy, You whispered words drift, Moth-wings On an outstretched arm Swishing Soft-swirled-grey Plucked from the wind In a breath of desperation Traveling a thousand miles In a single spoken feather Dear Children, Your words hold meaning Power To break a heart or mend it To nurture Or to writhe So speak.
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
Speak Well
Dear girl, Your words are carefully Chosen Leaves on a twig Writhing Drifting Hitting the silence With a loud Clunk Dear girl, Your shouts are Forks On a porcelain shard Screeching Burst-your-eyes silver Obscenities Shattering the hearts With a loud Clank Dear Boy, You whispered words drift, Moth-wings On an outstretched arm Swishing Soft-swirled-grey Plucked from the wind In a breath of desperation Traveling a thousand miles In a single spoken feather Dear Children, Your words hold meaning Power To break a heart or mend it To nurture Or to writhe So speak.
summer-winchester
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summer-winchester
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
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