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korie-conyersPoems
This will be the longest and worst Monday one to the streets, one to the pavement, one to the same, one to the mattress words falling off the finger tips, shoulder to wrist and toward forever retracing promises and former hours recognized and gone wilted apples amidst the caravans and prisons cells so ripe only to be ripe only to be lonely, whole and never melting and like a summers storm, a summers cry, a summers regret let that cold come, the world is cutting into my shoulders Please could you hold this? Thanks. I don’t mean that.
0
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 4:43 AM UTC
The worst and longest Monday
This will be the longest and worst Monday one to the streets, one to the pavement, one to the same, one to the mattress words falling off the finger tips, shoulder to wrist and toward forever retracing promises and former hours recognized and gone wilted apples amidst the caravans and prisons cells so ripe only to be ripe only to be lonely, whole and never melting and like a summers storm, a summers cry, a summers regret let that cold come, the world is cutting into my shoulders Please could you hold this? Thanks. I don’t mean that.
Written by
korie-conyers
American
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 4:43 AM UTC
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