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The Mess Inside

Fingerprints on coffee cups,

Stale air, exhaled,

still circulating through the ducts, and

Crumbs pushed into cushions

that vacuums will never find.

We can try to clean up

the mess we made

but there will always be pieces left behind.

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Written by

American

Published: Jan 7, 2014
LinesWords: 840

Notes: My winter is always brought to you by The Mountain Goats
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jUw6airVoM

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The Mess Inside - Hello Poetry