HePo
Classics
Words
Blog
F.A.Q.
About
Contact
Guidelines
© 2024 HePo
by
Eliot
Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads.
Become a member
sandra wyllie
Poems
Feb 2019
It Runs
It Runs
as a rip in my stocking. It grows with
movement. We never sit still. We’re never
perfect. There are other ones, newer,
in-tact. They don’t get ripped. They sit
still, inside they’re cartons. When they
come out they’re careful. So careful they wear
gloves. To be worn is to be stretched and
misshapen into something else. The last result
was a giant hole. That pair was thrown
out. We’re too smart for that. We have
too much class. We can stretch without tearing.
Written by
sandra wyllie
56/F
(56/F)
Follow
😀
😂
😍
😊
😌
🤯
🤓
💪
🤔
😕
😨
🤤
🙁
😢
😭
🤬
0
104
Please
log in
to view and add comments on poems