Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2015
Climbing up the furnace to the hollow gate of heavan,
Itching for gloppy sunshine in the cracks of your stomach.
Pour it out, pour it out; the thick fervor of negation;
Climbing in the window through your ears,
Hearing, yearning for the stained glass.
You know, it’s okay to die.
Emily Snow
Written by
Emily Snow  WI
(WI)   
3.2k
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems