"lassus" poems
This finger is much less a digit than it is a tool.
It is a tool with which I attempt to scrape your presence from the inside of my throat.
Your name swells like a tidal wave in my stomach,
And sends a surge of flotsam emotion into my esophagus.
With every heave of the sloppy sea comes some sick sense of satisfaction.
But alas, the sea is vast.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 5:10 AM UTC
So tired, I think
I may have forgotten that
My name is Ashley.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 2:15 PM UTC