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woundedPoems
call me in the empty of night call me in the selective mutism of light call me in the secrets of locked rooms call me call me in the candlelight of long soaks call me in the freeze of your greatest scare call me in the grace of your effortless achievement call me call me what you like, what you want to, need to call me in the full stops of the dead ends that meet you call me call me in the eyes of a close friend call me when you think you see the end call me when you're ready to begin again call me call me in the woods of love's mystery call me in the darkness of the wondering call me from the cliff edge, blind to the sea call me call me in the eulogy of your youth call me in the last words you're holding back; the truth call me call me in your favourite dress call me unclothed call me in the mirror when the world looks over your shoulder call me call me in the photographs you left me call me in the dream figures waiting to embrace call me in the first line you wrote to me call me call me in the aching of the distance call me in the bird short by starting pistols, raining feathers call me in the ****** hands of trying the frothing mouth of drowning if you call me always i will listen
0
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
call me //
call me in the empty of night call me in the selective mutism of light call me in the secrets of locked rooms call me call me in the candlelight of long soaks call me in the freeze of your greatest scare call me in the grace of your effortless achievement call me call me what you like, what you want to, need to call me in the full stops of the dead ends that meet you call me call me in the eyes of a close friend call me when you think you see the end call me when you're ready to begin again call me call me in the woods of love's mystery call me in the darkness of the wondering call me from the cliff edge, blind to the sea call me call me in the eulogy of your youth call me in the last words you're holding back; the truth call me call me in your favourite dress call me unclothed call me in the mirror when the world looks over your shoulder call me call me in the photographs you left me call me in the dream figures waiting to embrace call me in the first line you wrote to me call me call me in the aching of the distance call me in the bird short by starting pistols, raining feathers call me in the ****** hands of trying the frothing mouth of drowning if you call me always i will listen
wounded
Written by
wounded
Australian
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
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