Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2014
I rearrange the furniture in my head
So that I can fit the boxes in.
It’s an enormous amount.
I am building towers,
But they are spilling over.
Your laughter is everywhere.
Everything you’ve ever said,
Spilled out on the floor.
Every time I’ve looked at you,
Cramped into too tight boxes
In a too full head.
I can't let anything go.
Ironatmosphere
Written by
Ironatmosphere
Please log in to view and add comments on poems