Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 21
Wrapped tight in a grey blanket
Staring for what feels like hours
Dead inside
And the soft fabric slowly sleeps as minutes pass
Until it sits around my waist
I stand up to readjust
The only movement in hours
The blanket falls from the chair
A puddle of sadness on the floor
I scoop it up and let it hug around me one more
Returning to my staring it does it once more
My grey puddle of sadness on the floor
Philomena
Written by
Philomena  19/F
(19/F)   
98
   BR Dragos
Please log in to view and add comments on poems