Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2017
Perhaps you'll find me
Poking out from her pores
Peek a boo
Through skin

You'll be searching for me
Tucked behind her ear
Lose strands of hair
Drawing you
To trace with eager fingertips

A "perfect match"
Will never shed light
To new dark
It will keep you stagnant
For growth is not synonymous
With comfort

But I pray she meets the mark
Tucks tightly into suitcases
To shove into damp closests
To be packed away
Until the time comes
A trophy to be shown off only when you see fit
Written by
Grace  22/Cisgender Female
(22/Cisgender Female)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems