Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2020
I Pretend
I chop
the carrots,
dice the onions,
and fold the
laundry as if
all those years
of your hovering
don’t really matter,
but my insides
scream at you.
Written by
Lexa
66
   Flynn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems