Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2015
Gaping;
I can see my soft underlayer
like gooey egg whites stretching
between two skin walls.

Thick roads of red
at my wrists reaching
closer to the highway
lit to the clouds, warmed by other drivers

but the oil is low
and the gas is running out.
Georgia Goulding
Written by
Georgia Goulding  Liverpool
(Liverpool)   
643
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems