Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2024
The waves whispered, soft and endless, to her ear,

Their rhythm not unlike his voice—low, insincere.

She let them take her, a shadow slipping from the shore,

No rage, no plea; she was past the point of more.

Drowning felt gentle—his absence had hurt far more.
What he did to me.
Emma
Written by
Emma  F/Malta
(F/Malta)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems