Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2021
and he will bear it
like a curse,
like an orchard on fire
in the face of a harsh winter,
like dinner with her parents;
I'm withering on the vine.

I'm withering away,
it's fine.

it's apparent to nobody
but me.

the wine was nice though.
B E Cults
Written by
B E Cults  30/M/hendersonville tn
(30/M/hendersonville tn)   
206
   arizona and ap
Please log in to view and add comments on poems