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taylor-st-ongePoems
Like a wet séance, tea lights lined the porcelain frame of the old bucket tub, as if the closed-eyed occupant within its liquid depths was trying to form a connection between what is and         what could have been. One year since Chernobyl erupted in your brain, spotted like a favorite sweatshirt in the lost and found, it was snatched up,         up,                 and away along with you and who you used to be. Brushed affectionately by Death’s boney hand, I wonder if anything scares you         anymore. I wonder if I could be fearless like you.
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Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
Halloween
Like a wet séance, tea lights lined the porcelain frame of the old bucket tub, as if the closed-eyed occupant within its liquid depths was trying to form a connection between what is and         what could have been. One year since Chernobyl erupted in your brain, spotted like a favorite sweatshirt in the lost and found, it was snatched up,         up,                 and away along with you and who you used to be. Brushed affectionately by Death’s boney hand, I wonder if anything scares you         anymore. I wonder if I could be fearless like you.
ex-boyfriend drabbles
taylor-st-onge
Written by
taylor-st-onge
F/American
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
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