Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2
I peeled open my ribs like
a citrus rind under tired thumbs—
lazily and rough.
No fires began,
no stars collapsed—
just silence,
and the wet,
and honest sound
of my own beating heart.

It didn't scream,
or stop.
It just
continued,
as if it didn't notice
how I split myself open,
just to hear
it say--
nothing new.
Written by
teenagedirtbag4  13/Neither
(13/Neither)   
68
     William A Poppen and naǧí
Please log in to view and add comments on poems