I stutter, words burn,
Lipton shades drench our desk,
I turn your world like a dollar,
But you were already rolled out
You might play my smile like a violin,
Those feline eyes, in there wounded design,
It is fur that can’t trim,
Shedding ****** like ashes,
Petting you, as the comforters descending,
Blood is a blooming bass,
Whispering,
“You fit in my vase,
The sun you may taste”
May 24, 2025
May 24, 2025 at 12:12 AM UTC
I stutter, words burn,
Lipton shades drench our desk,
I turn your world like a dollar,
But you were already rolled out
You might play my smile like a violin,
Those feline eyes, in there wounded design,
It is fur that can’t trim,
Shedding ****** like ashes,
Petting you, as the comforters descending,
Blood is a blooming bass,
Whispering,
“You fit in my vase,
The sun you may taste”
Hi, this is my first poem published on hello poetry, from yours truly