Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2012
I didn't know what it meant
But i liked it.

In all its ever-present, phantasmagoric, sundry forms.
I liked how it wriggled through the grooves of my fist
And fell in tendrils down my spine.

I liked its sound--briny and crystaline
Like footsteps on salt panes.
Breanne Johnson
Written by
Breanne Johnson
547
   Olivia Mercado and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems