There’s a red neon vacancy sign
that hangs in my ribcage
settled among vital inner workings.
Its electric buzzing company to the rhythm
of blood through my veins.
A forgotten motel heart,
containing only rundown furniture.
Black spots on the walls.
They are painted a peculiar colour
that is no longer in fashion.
Perhaps it never was.
- Emma Cooper
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 3:58 AM UTC
There’s a red neon vacancy sign
that hangs in my ribcage
settled among vital inner workings.
Its electric buzzing company to the rhythm
of blood through my veins.
A forgotten motel heart,
containing only rundown furniture.
Black spots on the walls.
They are painted a peculiar colour
that is no longer in fashion.
Perhaps it never was.
- Emma Cooper
