Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The shelter sleeps like a ghost at night and I walk with him during the day, his one shoe on my right foot – I barely look like a woman, or if anything, a ********** waiting for someone to provide her a second glass slipper & slip off her ball gown. She will lay on her back in a motel – beautiful as a tulip’s head nursing on fertilizer for sustenance but largely agreeable with champagne. Even lying on pillows like a pubescent chest, perky and barely touched, she is a **** alone with leather boots. No one knows his name but he comes and goes and feels like home, the fuzz still in her eyes from sleep still collected from a previous divorce. I visit the shadow with my tongue and only mothballs when the sun sets – an uncomfortable rat in the soles too.
0
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 2:54 PM UTC
my sunshrine
The shelter sleeps like a ghost at night and I walk with him during the day, his one shoe on my right foot – I barely look like a woman, or if anything, a ********** waiting for someone to provide her a second glass slipper & slip off her ball gown. She will lay on her back in a motel – beautiful as a tulip’s head nursing on fertilizer for sustenance but largely agreeable with champagne. Even lying on pillows like a pubescent chest, perky and barely touched, she is a **** alone with leather boots. No one knows his name but he comes and goes and feels like home, the fuzz still in her eyes from sleep still collected from a previous divorce. I visit the shadow with my tongue and only mothballs when the sun sets – an uncomfortable rat in the soles too.
sarina
Written by
American
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 2:54 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem