Your voice rises up like worms from the earth.
No matter how deep I bury it, it claws back out,
To think of its tenor brings me nothing but hurt.
Your voice rises up like worms from the earth;
To see its gaunt face, a fresh mound of doubt,
The day you left me you had no room for air.
Now it's me, who can't breathe, lungs filled with despair.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
Your voice rises up like worms from the earth.
No matter how deep I bury it, it claws back out,
To think of its tenor brings me nothing but hurt.
Your voice rises up like worms from the earth;
To see its gaunt face, a fresh mound of doubt,
The day you left me you had no room for air.
Now it's me, who can't breathe, lungs filled with despair.
draft
Request permission to use this poem