Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 10
Smoke smudges the canvas,
and despite my best efforts
it starts to smear
as it runs down the pages and pages
And drains into the dark of the night
as the sidewalks become ice,
and the sky becomes light
Slipping and sliding
through the words that are meant to comfort
but I flinch as though
the words themselves raise their hands
towards me
Nights spent
curled
In the closet where I thought
I would belong
But the rain still pitter patters
on the top of the roof
that I tried to build to keep me safe
but still it leaks into the room, and onto the naked
parts of my arms, my neck
where I cannot let them see
For where they'd send me
i don't want to know
and for that I am too afraid
Esme Calder
Written by
Esme Calder
956
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems