Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2015
This one wild eyed child,
with the breath like
gin,
those cedar branches between teeth,
those handfuls of eyes,
those broken whispers and spit on my eyelashes,
a kiss between a day broken like cigarettes in the package.

Could you make love to a series of words,
or a painting on the wall,
or maybe a laugh between ***** sheets where our skulls bounce off each other,
could you love a dead smile?
Patrick Kennon
Written by
Patrick Kennon  33/M/x
(33/M/x)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems