Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2016
I don't know where I left myself.
It's a blur,
from you to me.
Between tequila shots and
lines of whatever.
Increasingly less noticeable,
indistinct
Killing myself
trying to **** you.
And now only you remain
Marithe Munoz
Written by
Marithe Munoz
387
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems