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Renn Powell Mar 23
taunting,
like my childhood bully
on the blacktop
of the elementary school i once attended.
poking me all over.
tormenting me.
the mocking laughter.
kicking me in the ribs,
until i ran out of air.
that's what our memories
feel like
Danielle May 2018
I squirm in my seat.
The pricking of my dreams,
Like a long…
Slow…
Lazy drag
of a soft feather along my back.
Tormenting,
And ticklish,
As all those little stinging secrets
Start to come pouring out.
Sometimes dreams are harder to deal with then reality. Add to that the way dreams tend to stick with you through the day especially when your mind confronts you with secrets and you have this poem/

— The End —