I can see it in the shadows of my walls
the corners of the empty white rooms
the concave stomachs of little kids
your dried, chewed-up bottom lip
the hollows of Mum’s cheeks
the ticking of a metronome
the gaps in the bookcase
the crusty, sore noses
the bleeding nails
the white walls
skinny wrists
burnt paper
filaments
unlights
people
limbs
you
me.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
I can see it in the shadows of my walls
the corners of the empty white rooms
the concave stomachs of little kids
your dried, chewed-up bottom lip
the hollows of Mum’s cheeks
the ticking of a metronome
the gaps in the bookcase
the crusty, sore noses
the bleeding nails
the white walls
skinny wrists
burnt paper
filaments
unlights
people
limbs
you
me.
