Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
spit on molars It was something my gran had said and had always stuck with me how she didn't care for love and made it very clear I just think she never knew it a frail woman whose dog preference was large in order to exert authority over an entity more powerful than her own she told me of how she would push any man out of her bed never sleeping a night in arms yet here I am clutching your body tight to mine in a hope we may morph together like plastercine the bed but a plinth for us to lie as people look upon our final form and as you step onto the train from the platform our limbs form strings as we are dismembered like spit on molars
0
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 7:49 PM UTC
spit on molars
spit on molars It was something my gran had said and had always stuck with me how she didn't care for love and made it very clear I just think she never knew it a frail woman whose dog preference was large in order to exert authority over an entity more powerful than her own she told me of how she would push any man out of her bed never sleeping a night in arms yet here I am clutching your body tight to mine in a hope we may morph together like plastercine the bed but a plinth for us to lie as people look upon our final form and as you step onto the train from the platform our limbs form strings as we are dismembered like spit on molars
anna-houghton
Written by
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 7:49 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem