Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2013
When I sing to corvines to slumber,
I wish I could carve out my heart,
engrave it into a rose and rock it gently to sleep.
but birds are cold blood and travel south in the winter.
So now I'll just cuddle up to my insomnia
and wake 20 years later on a damp pillow
and my trembling body of the ghost thats left inside my hollow bones.
Nissa Arsenic
Written by
Nissa Arsenic
764
   Chuck
Please log in to view and add comments on poems