Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2017
When he laughs, he casts
his head back and lets
it flare out of him like lava.

Laughter spilled like milk,
frothy and sincere,
and he can't care
about the glorious mess left.

All punchlines are the best
but when it's slipped from my lips,
the corners of his kisser
curl into sharper hangers.

He calls me his wishbone
and I just whisper,
"please don't break me."
Written by
Sarah Benesi  30/F/Boston
(30/F/Boston)   
  426
   Em MacKenzie, Tamsin Gray and Riham
Please log in to view and add comments on poems