Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2015
Sustenance for my frail body
contained in gel-coated pills
split into thirds,
one for morning,
one for night,
one to slip beneath my tongue.

A glass of water
–or milk, with breakfast–
rumbles through my throat,
resists peristalsis,
hits stomach.

The heater clicks on
as the thermostat flashes 68 degrees,
then shuts off at night,
replaced by
one sheet,
one throw blanket,
one quilt.

Your hand, inches from
my fingertips,
not yet near enough
for electricity to jump between,
will go unacknowledged;
one feeble attempt at loving within my means.
Molly
Written by
Molly
1.2k
     Francie Lynch, Cristina, --- and Molly
Please log in to view and add comments on poems