Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2012
The kind of waking up
that rattles my bones
fogs my memory
blurs the lines
between dreams
and reality

what time is it
what day is it
where am I
where was I

but the absolute worst
part of this kind of waking
is not having you here
to comfort me with kisses
Alexis Martin
Written by
Alexis Martin
395
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems