Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2019
It's 4:18 in the morning and everyone here at home is asleep, they can't hear me tossing and turning in my bed, the squeek of the springs are keeping me awake.
It's 4:19 in the morning and I'm packing a bowl wishing you were here next to me.
It's 4:20 in the morning, I flick my lighter and inhale, hoping you feel a little buzzed too.
Can't help myself.
Broadsky
Written by
Broadsky  earth
(earth)   
506
     Fawn and Terry Collett
Please log in to view and add comments on poems