Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2019
The precipice smells of gasoline;
perturbation proceeds the drop and I
am yet too sticky to fly.
On the verge of awakening,
the dark chrysalis has formed around me
in too-thick ropes of viscous feeling
and if I could but break through
the sun might once again
dry my wings.
April 2019
elizabeth leone laird
Written by
elizabeth leone laird  26/F/north of nowhere
(26/F/north of nowhere)   
596
   ---, Zelia Valdez, Fawn, Mark S and Harper
Please log in to view and add comments on poems