Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2020
Your eyes they felt, like a  b i g   l a k e
I had been failed, but now I  a m  p i n k
It reaches down and it counts o u t
the grain exhales, through your little hands
in the loose sand
We were one, when my m i n d rests
They can’t touch what I’ve never had

Your focus it felt, like a  t r a n q u i l
A state I’ve never been
Our shoes were all, in the c l o s e t
you use the space to dance for them,
I n  y o u r  t r a n q u i l
Not unaccustomed, but I’d never been
and I  l i k e  i t
Middle Class
Written by
Middle Class
191
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems