Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2014
Climbing slowly
up the back stairs
softly crossing
to the door
pushing gently
knocking empty
bottles to
the bedroom floor,
empty pledge
asleep on bedsheets
broken, blind and
in my chest
I can feel
an ageing drum's beat
marking time,
and emptiness.
(old one rebottled)
bones
Written by
bones  England
(England)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems