Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2016
He pointed at trees
telling me their names
so I looked at him
like I saw
the future.



He puts his fingers
between
gum
and
lip
all the way down the throat.



His hands rubbed
my dead heart
pulsed
the sides and now
it sings
like it's in the
******* opera.
MJ
Written by
MJ  Seattle
(Seattle)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems