Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I hope   (with a fire that consumes my kindling of bones) that the first thing to strike you when you run your hand down my back is not the stretching of my rib cage as it settles around my lungs. I hope you are lit, with a ******* wildfire, when your fingertips alight upon my skin.
0
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Anatomy
I hope   (with a fire that consumes my kindling of bones) that the first thing to strike you when you run your hand down my back is not the stretching of my rib cage as it settles around my lungs. I hope you are lit, with a ******* wildfire, when your fingertips alight upon my skin.
Written by
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem