Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2011
"my hands are
nothing more than
     things that need fixing,"
he tells himself with a bitter tongue


but in
the bleak morning
soft smoke curls around his
daydreams,
his eyes painted lost shades
of crimson and wanting;
the brief, sweet exhale of
maybe tomorrow escapes
his lips

- just before he realizes that
this moment                 alone
has become his greatest
nightmare
written september 2011.
Izzy Nolan
Written by
Izzy Nolan
515
   R Saba and Genesis'
Please log in to view and add comments on poems