Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2019
I had hoped death was what had awoken me.
Alas, it was my mother,
standind over my soon-to-be
sleeping corpse.
The bitter disappointment traced
her outline in the dark,
as if I had not called to her
hours before, with my hands
around my throat.
Isobel Webster
Written by
Isobel Webster  Australia
(Australia)   
220
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems