Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2011
d__’s fingers move slowly down my spine
tracing over each vertebrae with malicious intent,
his bluish lips curling into an empty smile.
He smells of hurricanes
and something putrid I can’t describe.

A vicious cycle is tough to break, he whispers,
in a voice that scrapes behind my eyes.
The stars aren’t out tonight, and I am afraid.
Written by
Apple
511
   Meagan Moore
Please log in to view and add comments on poems