Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2018
my fingertips are always cold.
when I press them
to my face
or tuck them
under my chin
they are chips of ice.
the warmth feels good,
and i can breathe again.
zb
Written by
zb  19/Agender
(19/Agender)   
148
   Skye Marshmallow
Please log in to view and add comments on poems