Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2014
I can taste the wood and paint
of the pencil i've been biting
I let it roll from my teeth down my shirt.
And I can't focus on the Words in my head because
the Song is playing but I can't focus on the Song because
the Rain is hitting
the roof. And my window.

Everything fades to a Place where
all outlines are blurred.
No harsh edges
Only the ideas of words
rainydaysunday
Written by
rainydaysunday
271
   Rose and Emerald Proctor
Please log in to view and add comments on poems