Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2019
I don't write them anymore
I say I've lost my words
But in truth, they never left
Bubbling under the surface of my lips
Like sweet blisters of hope, confusion and rancor
I am really [only] a living dictionary
My thoughts like a river
My mouth like a hose
But you always say stop.
So they just sit, drying up
While I breathe through my nose.
Copyright fhw 2019
F White
Written by
F White
699
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems