Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2016
You make me feel sunburnt:
I redden at your gaze
your words make me sore
blistering at your touch.

But I always return;
the moth drawn to the light,
the festering cloud in July.

Perpetual sun spots
and dry lips,
a dizziness of the knees.

Now I know, why
they tell you to stay out of the sun.
Written by
Rose
304
   codenameDust
Please log in to view and add comments on poems