Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2020
She was the guardrail;
that stopped me every time I pressed on the gas a bit too hard. She stopped me from going over the edge every time I went too fast around the sharp corners.
She held my hand while they picked out all the bone chips and cut off my blood stained clothes, it could have been worse but she stopped me from going off the edge of the cliff with her guardrail heart.
Chloe Martin Snell
Written by
Chloe Martin Snell  24/F/Canada
(24/F/Canada)   
  79
   Colm
Please log in to view and add comments on poems