Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
mia-zanette-1Poems
"You're gonna die in there," He calls down into his heart but it's comfy between his heartstrings so I pretend not to hear him. We took down the Sunday death toll And laid down to sleep together but the sound of the freeway rushing past the window interrupted our dreams that night. Swollen hands that beat broken hearts "You're going to die in there" but my shoe is stuck in the doorway so I can't seem to leave. Then he asked if I poisoned his tea. I told him he was the only poison I set before my nightstand and lathered my lips with like balm. I was drenched in his blood. But he wanted to pull me out so he could hold me again so he could pick out the gravel. Cleaning his wounds, I asked him to **** me. **** me.
0
Mar 10, 2012
Mar 10, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
In the Bottom of the Well
"You're gonna die in there," He calls down into his heart but it's comfy between his heartstrings so I pretend not to hear him. We took down the Sunday death toll And laid down to sleep together but the sound of the freeway rushing past the window interrupted our dreams that night. Swollen hands that beat broken hearts "You're going to die in there" but my shoe is stuck in the doorway so I can't seem to leave. Then he asked if I poisoned his tea. I told him he was the only poison I set before my nightstand and lathered my lips with like balm. I was drenched in his blood. But he wanted to pull me out so he could hold me again so he could pick out the gravel. Cleaning his wounds, I asked him to **** me. **** me.
mia-zanette-1
Written by
mia-zanette-1
American
Mar 10, 2012
Mar 10, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem