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hana-grace-wiebePoems
Leave, left, leaving I never felt the grass weaving I never felt my skin peeling off my shoulders and into my hands Bent, break, breaking I never left my hands shaking I never held my throat, aching down my spine and into the bedframe Held, hold, healing I never kept my knees kneeling I never felt my mouth bleeding off my chin and onto my chest Heal, hell, heaving I never slipped my hands, thieving I never caught my feet leaving off the grass and into the street
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Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 2:15 AM UTC
Bus Stop
Leave, left, leaving I never felt the grass weaving I never felt my skin peeling off my shoulders and into my hands Bent, break, breaking I never left my hands shaking I never held my throat, aching down my spine and into the bedframe Held, hold, healing I never kept my knees kneeling I never felt my mouth bleeding off my chin and onto my chest Heal, hell, heaving I never slipped my hands, thieving I never caught my feet leaving off the grass and into the street
hana-grace-wiebe
Written by
hana-grace-wiebe
Canadian
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 2:15 AM UTC
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