Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2017
You were sitting there
denying.

While I laid on our bed
slowly drying.

And you wouldn't have been able to tell
from looking,

which                                      
one                                
of                          
us                    
was            
dying.
Abigail Card
Written by
Abigail Card
143
   Illona
Please log in to view and add comments on poems