Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2014
how afraid we are
of things unsaid
and things
that are said too soon

if only silence
would compensate
for either

be the fence
separating the lush green
from the left
and the lush green
from the right

alas
it is the left
seen to be grey
by the one
who always
drowns in it
pluie d'été
Written by
pluie d'été
Please log in to view and add comments on poems