Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Death Grip

More often than not beating hearts find themselves constricted A forked tongue picks up the scent of blood and squeezes until perhaps it receives exactly what it wants exactly what you think it needs More often than not beating hearts find themselves scared Though it hurts a little bit it is comforting and if the familiar slithers away what would it receive what would it feel but emptiness? Normality.
Request permission to use this poem
Written by
tessa-tomlin
Published
Sep 26, 2011
Lines·Words
21·69
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell tessa-tomlin how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write