Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2018
I’m swallowed by a cerulean sea
Different shades of blue implemented in the corners of my mind
Betwixt my pneuma
A reverend call;
Black satin and fingers longing on it's cloth
It is a slow dance with death
a  polite yet torrential downpour
and no one man can revive
after the tears fall
Written by
Jacqueline Noelle
247
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems