Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2016
Movement
It comes at me quietly
like a moth buried
beneath my flesh
slowly moving it's wings
churning just enough
This thing called love
I let it abduct what's left
As I fall asleep it carries me up
Written by
what a waste
601
     Pamela Rae, Soumya Goswami and Ronney
Please log in to view and add comments on poems