Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2010
I won't spit out your bones.
Instead I'll carry them,
nestle them under my throat, bear
them like I bore my love for you:
That is, carelessly,
cutting at my throat and ******* until
my forearms stain and an earthquake
thunders down, showcasing the other
fossils I have buried before you.
Written by
Emma
Please log in to view and add comments on poems