Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2015
i am silent today like i am everyday.

what do you say, then.
in its stead what shape are your lips?
are they still that red,
the one i could never see replicated on the outside.

my right hand won’t stop shaking,
its fingers reject central authority from their tips.

the sky from down here,
trembles in step.

you know what no one really brings up?
what.
how the flux never wanes,
the seconds evaporate almost instantly,
hitting the pan and running upward,

then minutes, and the rest of them follow.
Written by
c quirino
697
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems