"multiplies" poems
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
20.5k
I was in love with a Poem:
The poet lured her victims into her wild kingdom of
Word, words, words, that
became the forest of ****** illusion
verses and verses that I never encounter;
In this kingdom I never notice the Sunrise before Sunset
The chanting before the protesters
Lightening before the winds
suddenly brought on by the rain,
That triggers the mighty storms:
The poetics effects of Similes, Hyperbole,
Understatement and personification devices got my attention
Pages after pages,
line of words that opened my eyes,
The mighty pen, a trending poem,
and there I was a loyal reader
With an amazing cup of hot coffee
The poem took me through
this much-modernized tale of
Alice’s rabbit hole adventures
Poems are to be read aloud,
loving making is meant to be private
So is mourning for the dead:
Some things are just meant to be...private
My love for the poem and
my admiration on its poetic views
Is more than human emotions,
than my stimuli of brain ***
I read the poem while sipping my coffee,
Birth, death, politics and religion
*** drugs and empty souls : human emotions,
This much-modernized free verse poetry can causes multiplies *******
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
What better human quality than generosity?
They say sharing is caring, who could disagree?
Sharing bread, sharing bed, sharing deep intimacy
Sharing souls, sharing hearts, sharing vulnerability
But a world without sharing is a world that stopped caring
Without care, love will fade and cause lack of compassion
Division of humankind, is what causes war of nations
Borders are border line, they impede freedom of roaming
Don’t you think it’s absurd how people will decide
How much they’ll share with you,
How much they’ll care for you
Depending on where you’re born or you reside
Whilst the truth is that we share - the same entire planet
Borders caused our division - and used us all as puppets
To get richer and be better than those outside our borders
Made us greedy, made us needy to increase our own possessions
Some might think sharing means - losing parts of what is yours
But where true love persists - all that is mine is also yours
Sharing doesn’t halve happiness; you’ll see it multiplies it
Possession is what grows greed and the bad weeds that surround it
Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 5:26 PM UTC
The imaginers of now were children once,
each day they each imagined tomorrow.
Their daddies had just won the war
happy days were really here again, this time.
---
Now, we see what we see, it's not what we saw.
And this is better than I imagined.
My first oral book report was on 1984, in 1962.
Percentages and stats, the odds,
out of 8 billion…
I carry my weight, saltwise,
I'm light, too. Immaterial in fact.
I watched the internet take form
before my very eyes,
magi technic never seen since Darius the Mede.
Good job, geeks.
Reared on radio waves your
grandfathers never heard,
your signal receptors from mito-mom,
oh, what a plan. The promised ones.
Many sons.
hmmm 60 cycle white noise in the field,
the field of fields,
Future Farmers of America and stuff
Powers we imagined,
a color TV we could watch
in the backseat for days on Route 66,
a restaurant just for kids
Toys 'r' Us oh, wow,
those came and went
and our Grand kids
are imagining tomorrow,
doin' fine with less of what we thought was cool,
taking for granted all I
accepted as granted, in the "It is Finished"
Golden Parachute
Package deal,
Grace and Peace
that multiplies.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 4:32 AM UTC
Why do poets and photographers love fleeting things?
Angled shafts of sunlight piercing a mass
of clouds. A rainbow flashing from dragonfly wings.
Water drops beading like shards of glass.
The fluttering shape of a sycamore’s shade.
The sun sinking into its reflection
In a purple bay. Smoke’s shadow. The rayed
Curve of a finger reaching for perfection.
Whatever churns, bursts, rocks, flies,
Foams, flickers, roils, evades
In pigments of impermanent dyes
We try to fix before it fades
Once I mourned the endless dying
Of here and now, the present always past
Elegized each moment, sighing
Beauty is loss and can never last.
But now I think I had it wrong. In fact
(I learned this from an artist’s eye)
Fleeting beauty reappears faster than we react,
At the speed of a daydream flashing by.
All around, light coalesces into form,
Form explodes into light,
And we live lavishly inside this storm
If we can learn to see it right.
Beauty multiplies, tapering, swelling:
Reshaping, reforming, now familiar, now strange.
This gaudy blur in which we’re dwelling
Is the permanence of change.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
Is it not magical, fantastical, terrible
the way my body expands and contracts
like a peach balloon
the more or less I digest.
If I wind mental stitches through
my oesophagus - my bones call
to the skin,
reel it in. ten million krill
trapped in the suction
of the line of a fisherman.
In gluttony, the same line
spills, the tide swells
and multiplies cells
Lipids blossom and my waistband
leaves a discrete red line of rubble
on the shore.
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 1:53 PM UTC
twinkle birds and tessellates, bends my mind to outer space. lands me in infinity of never ending affinity to the universe.
but sweetest ideas were shortly lived at reality slowly sifts away to repeated visions that turn loved faces into panic that glitches me into unbreakable circles of walk away, walk away.
no awareness of a before from this feel the abyss of this helplessness **** me into no ending so I seice to begin.
but as the panic subsides my mind starts to ride the energy that resides in my being from the kingfisher floor to the fish strewn ceiling.
sentient beings **** at the seams, my dream of weightlessness pull the windows to break towards the secrets of simple existence.
invisible water sends the strands of fur swelling and glowing into talk of the polar bear whose hair weaves into the atoms that feed my jumbled dreams.
hands rip through the plaster as the sounds grow louder and faster, helicopters shake the boiler from the pipes but I still feel great.
the tables tremble as I soak up the bass and the treble. sensual overload through my eyes the magic multiplies, angels can hear my sighs as the roof opens to tunnel towards the skies.
geometric patterns that I could never have imagines circle and sweep, creeping my further from sleep.
I have breached something new, an extreme that dares its self to be seen only my the few who ****** it. I grab these new senses and attach it to my masses of emotions, that have been formed my these chemicals. neutrons and protons that explore the breadth oh Pantones schemes, weaving into the atoms that feed my jumbles dreams.
release my mind from the confines of rinse and repeat, out of easy street and onto the sunrise that surrounds me. revelations that never siese to confound me.
destruction was peace pulling my beliefs, daring the world to touch me as the floor tips the cabinets from the walls. I am small. here in this perfect world. my hands make the plants grow as they show me all it takes to break the confines of the human condition is to expand your mind and reposition your nervous system to reach a different supposition.
little lion
please read my other work if you like this one!
http://trivialitesofabusymind.blogspot.co.uk/
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
hearing feet pound the cement sidewalk,
seeing cars and drivers pass by talk-
ing on cell phones, silhouettes, shaped
by street lights lit as darkness drapes,
at the feet below these aging knees
the shadow moves ahead and is chased
down, falls behind as the body and face-
less shape with feet that slap the ground
not as a delicate dancer, because they pound
the run into submission,
at times the breath would better,
if it were louder, and with a rasp
then it would be easy to grasp
why this impossible implausible delight
seems so pure, in the dark and in the night,
I invite one, I invite all, drop by
any night and we see our foot falls
and hear who steps could crack
where they land and whose breathing
would be better if banned,
for disturbing the peace
legs with muscle straining from the training,
not getting the enough rest to prepare for the raining
and the run, the stuff that tests, a rare human quality,
can you finish what you start,
arteries clear and how is the heart,
do you know pace, do you know no quit
can you find peace, can you give a squirt
of water in your mouth without out choking and having to stop,
do you know the joy that a child knows as they run
can you find that place where activity was and is fun
hard sidewalks, hard life lessons to learn
heavy steps, heavy heart, hear the sorrow
shadows, follow the mind multiplies and borrows fear from the shelf
breathing in, hoping to be at ease,
breathing out, hoping to release
All
The
Tension
Handily
Exacting
Every
Nerve
Damaged
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
Happiness brings U Laughter.
Happiness brings U Joy.
It makes U, sound playful.
Like a Child, with a new gifted Toy.
Love pours Out with Romance,
It has the Fragrance of a Flower.
Some are lucky to have it.
As it multiplies Life by the Hour.
Tears that fall on your Pillow,
for all the times U have Cried.
U feel awful, lonely and Hollow.
like almost half of U has Died.
Life is so much Beautiful,
When there's Someone to Care.
Your Wounds all keep healing
Someday their Scars won't be There.
Sep 27, 2023
Sep 27, 2023 at 1:36 AM UTC
As swift as they come our reality strikes
we try to define what is around us instead of just existing
we're always asking who made us and what goes beyond the stars
I used to question it all until I realized the truth
every choice that we make puts us on a path to a certain destiny
we make more than one choice to each question we come across
but a part of us is only conscious for one of the choices
because of the world we are in and the people that we are around
we have trouble focusing on all of the options that are acted out
so we look to the one that is easiest to see
we are universal
our own God
we construct all that we have
subconsciously we make everything happen in our movie that we play out
and our conscious acts it out
we come down to this universe as a gray
no tainted thoughts
no influence
no decisions made
completely pure and innocent
and as we live
we begin to gain a blend of black and white
balance is key
we continue an infinite cycle that only multiplies more and more
there is no end
and the beginning was only the beginning of a new thought
time is only a human thing
So one would ask if it never ends then what's the point?
The point is to continue the story
to live
to love
to be happy
Those are the cherished elements
the most powerful elements
they are the best of reality
the rest you must feel so that you may understand
so you may help others see too
we are here together
and when we die
we will still be together
though there will be distance between us
we all will still make a part of the balance
that is our purpose
To just.......be
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 8:47 PM UTC
Where do thugs go?
Who do they run to?
Where do they call home?
Not a house that they go to, but a place where they feel belonged
How do they cope with the scarcity of love?
Thugs, not the kind that most women think they are attracted to; therefore, not the imposers
Not the kind who landed at the bottom of the hill, sliding from the top only to scrape off their rot
Not the ones who were born with all the right people in their corners, but boxed them off while trying to fight to be someone that they are not
Thugs, the ones who momma loves? Because he appreciates her worthiness, her works
She's the only real love he ever had since birth
Thugs; who can't really go places because trouble doubles
It multiplies whenever he is with his guys
Because they all know how it feel not to live under a roof
Neither one of them have anything to lose
His dudes are equal to himself cubed
They rely on one another like proofs
And they are radical from the roots
Living in a negative atmosphere trying to multiply it by itself
So that they can make it to where the grass is greener and the sun does shine
The other side of the number line
Where the gunfire and homicides are divided
And the dope is reduced
All their lives they have been thinking that they are enduring the truth
That they "cannot amount to nothing and cannot be put to use"
They are neck deep in the streets
And the authorities is at their throats like a crew
But nothing around them is cotton
So when their fingers symbolizes a "V" they are only representing the place where they have to be
And they are not weak, but sometimes they wishes that they can take off a week
Black cats can't chase yarn
Mexicans don't have a specific day for casual dressing
Asians don't get any waivers
Cubans can't take less hours for a semester of schooling
Haitians don't get vacations
The **** life is given
Difficult to make it
As it is to escape it
It's hard to deal
When all they know is reeling in deals
To people who are saltier than Dill's
While at the same time trying to act real... Kosher
Without a companion to share meals... How do they find closure?
Too busy being tyrannical
Never learned how to be grammatical
So **** just got "worser"
Interviewee for a job
Or being suave to a child's mom
Besides their eyes,
Their oration is just exposure
Not knowing their duration to exist on this surface
Thugs need love
It's hard to tell through his mean-mug
But he's hurting
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
Long before Horus' exposure on its trunk
and the nailing of Jesus upon its grain,
rings have been added within the Tree
while people proclaim to hold the key
of salvation: a continually borrowed mythology
swallowed; an extra-strength sleeping pill
pulling the masses into slumber,
and away from the awakened truth
that such supposed salvation
is an illusory ticket far too easy to obtain
for it to be real—
a discriminatory, fairy tale-damnation
that multiplies the divide
of "Us and Them."
Too many people hand out the easy tickets,
then cut and light the tree:
a hypodermic injection of selfish memories
mixed into the mortar of temples designated as sacred,
while dogmatic shears amputate roots from the sky.
Too many people preach
about a cheap, polystyrene heaven,
while only a few walk the narrow path
that leads towards the kingdom within,
and live the sacrifice because it feels right.
Again and again,
the ticket isn't so easy.
We must put aside our slumber-crutches,
stop watching the few carry the rest
upon their backs, until bones creak and groan
from the weight of people waiting for salvation
to be handed to them.
For 27 years, 46664 was etched into the bark
of a branch in the road.
When forked doors opened,
a living, breathing gospel
brought down fences,
and even then, the wood was made into crutches
for people to say,
*"M will fix it; M will do this, M will do that;
M will save us, just wait and see."*
M is finally free. Yes, he is free!
Free, but not lost to us;
he survives as spirit-seeds.
We must cease to lean upon crutches;
we must purge the pill from our blood
and awaken into gardeners who water the seeds
within the soil of our hearts,
before the vision withers completely,
and we remain only as husks
waiting to be hydrated by watering cans—
weakened hands and arms unable to lift their weight
held in our own hands all along,
held in our hands all along.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
I sit down with you
So willing to hear
Caught up in your web
Just knowing you're near.
I catch myself often
Getting lost in your eyes
Put my hand to my chest
As my heartbeat multiplies.
I cling to each word
That you speak to me
And hold on like it was gold
Whatever the topic may be.
Speak all night and I'd still be sold
Talk about anything;
It would never get old.
I'd listen the whole while
And sincerely care
About what you say to me
I'm so thankful you're there.
The night reaches its end
We go our separate ways
But I'll be dreaming all night
About what you had to say.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
On this day,
Twenty-eight years ago,
I realized that love is not divided...
Not halved between.
A father's love for his children...
Is a multiplication,
An expansion.
How do I explain?
Meanings of life change;
Additions and subtractions aside,
Love multiplies...matures:
Exult or suffer, it endures
Even the agony of division.
Mainly now, love suffers,
But always it endures.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 8:30 AM UTC
Oh God I'm a such a rebel
Next level evolution of a Devil
Built I am from trouble's rubble
Ego goes pop like a bubble
Curse in verse spells will land
Reject your plan on sacred beliefs I stand
Stolen land slaughter of clans
Too **** much you'll never understand
I am the blood watch me stain
Empires fall ideas remain..
Overseas we die playing war games
Billions spent on weapons without shame
Poetry key unlocking cages
Master all levels document the stages
I'm a book living my pages
Stories I'm in so outrageous
Devil I am..Why would I claim to be?
Wicked flow spin spells of destiny
Pull me over question me
Tell me officer what do you see?
A shade of color that isn't white
A soul so dark eats up light
Shoot me down without a fight
Your destruction you ignite
Streets on fire media fanning flames
Justice bleeds truth watch it drain
Anger plus death multiplies the pain
Our lives on the line Yo..This is no game..
Continue this dance to our doom
Apocalypse now hear the boom
Don't really believe..just assume
The Devil is the darkness in the room..
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
A worthless instrument filled with sentiment
That is what I want to take
from when I thoroughly become benevolent.
I yearn a reminder of a version
Of myself where I don't have piercing eyes
Or a cold body
Or a stifling loathe of beings similar to myself
Or a need to curl up to a ball when pens *****
Ah fornicate this I can't write anymore
There's a hope buried in me
It multiplies like bamboo shoots entangling
It says grow thorns, be turgid
It says pop horns, stay frigid
I walk down the corridor constantly defying myself
I'm one character I think
Am I
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
Sit broken
Sulkin'
Softly weepin' wisps which then
Withdraw themselves from all of this
Fickle
And fiendish
You'd have my arms and legs bound tight
You're sulkin'
Broken
Without remorse, without respite
I'm nervous,
Workless
And functionless in all your eyes
You're girlish
And cutesy
You give them eyes to get replies
I've never-
You've never?
You finish thoughts and work your little fingers down my
Spine
-chorus-
Uproot the weeds inside you
Fine
I'm through with being fruitless and
Surprised
By old attempts to change our ways
Besides
We're newly polished anyways
We're newly painted, off the line
The bitter
And nameless
Are working after hours to reface this
And shame it
It sits and spins and multiplies
With frequence
I feel it
I feed a framework filament fire
And hapless
You're hopeless
I'm hoping on another line-
To find out what's been sanctified
Who sacrificed to tranquilize
And backfired by bullshittin'
So now I'm sleepy saunterin'
To see what life's like on the other side
(Chorus)
-breakdown-
If we cared
We could whisper cloudy whiteness where there
Used to be only filth and flies
I'm sick of sentimentalism
Sick of sinking in
I'm feeling fine.
-chorus-
Uproot the weeds inside you
Fine
I'm through with being fruitless and
Surprised
By old attempts to change our ways
Besides-
We're newly puffed up anyways
I've walked the line from Z to A
We're freshly painted hypocrites
At least this time I won't be so surprised.
-fin-
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
You glow
Your radiated purple hue
Just touching you multiplies my atoms
Just touching your pedal is cancerous
I grew you in a chemical spill
I watered you every day
With my dappling of sunshine
I hoped to elevate your foliage
You kept reaching out
You reached for more nature
Until your sickly festered roots
Tore you in another direction
You grew towards a reactor
Beyond the need for gardening
You grew towards the processing plant
Beyond the dappling of sunshine
You keep growing and growing
But you won't grow anywhere
But further into your toxic
Pedals never face the sunshine
All you want is clean rain you say
All you want is some sun
All you do is lay there in the waste
All you do is wait for it to be done
All you do is grow mutant fruit
All you do is grow your thorns
I'm trying to live in the sunlight here
While a new gardener collects your scorn
I threw fertilizer over toxic waste
I gave it some fresh new earth
I planted roses in your place
I allowed my garden rebirth
The roses are coming in just fine
I'll expect them still next June
They grow towards sunlight every day
They're my positive giving negative prune
I hope you like to wasteland
I hope you like the sun at your back
I'll keep growing my Fresh Roses
I can't grow your Toxic Lilac
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 2:57 AM UTC
A child with fine features,
blue eyes,
learns from teachers--
deep below our perceptive thought,
our Einstein philosophies,
and artsy intellectualism.
She multiplies the rose bushes,
across the Italian culture,
so romantic,
so fair.
breathing only to discover a Shakespearean air,
about herself.
She knows more than most,
sitting just above the state of human consciousness.
Reality is reigned by being just.
If one could know,
if the lion tamed,
of cruel desires,
and citrus teas.
We would object,
justification.
What beauty lay below a rose bush?
Nothing, muck.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:09 PM UTC
Stranded out in the bitter cold
wind slicing up my cheeks
while it slaps me with its icy fingers
Limbs buried in the dense snow
weighed down by the frozen
hopelessness that is as far as the
eye can bare to see
Although weakness threatens me
and death nips at my nose
I beg of all to leave me be,
I dare them
For I know that through the
darkest night of my life
thoughts of you will rush
to comfort me
I think of your piercing eyes
and how the blueness calms me
My mind runs to thoughts of
your lips- to each pure kiss
These frigid fingertips of mine yearn
to be entwined with yours once more
As love awakens in me
the warmth you’ve embedded
into my being multiplies
I find myself free of the icy *******
in a pool of warm hopefulness
Green emerges from the thousand
shades of melting white
and I know lovely things will grow
from what I have made it through
The sun kisses every inch of me
the way only you do and I know
I can get back to you now.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
I truly fail to understand
Why it’s gotten out of hand.
It seems so very odd
There are so many God
Is supposed to have ordained
Some aren’t even trained.
There is an absolute dearth
Of an actual true rebirth
In the revivifying blood of Jesus.
It’s almost like allergic sneezes.
Pastures full of pastors.
Priests and beasts.
Defectors and rectors.
Pickers and vicars.
Bleachers full of preachers.
Clerics and hysterics.
Papal delegates and celibates.
Televangelists and Adventists
And hostile Pentecostals.
We are becoming overrun
With an ecumenical kind of fun
In which before we can holler
Another puts on a backward collar
And starts tell us what to do.
When the rebirthing is through
They are on their park soapbox
And ******** about our Xbox;
Telling us what we should watch
And the coffee in our coffee klatch
Is unGodly because Jesus never drank it.
Makes me want to grab and spank it
Before it multiplies. Jerks, those guys.
Pastures full of pastors.
Priests and beasts.
Defectors and rectors.
Pickers and vicars.
Bleachers full of preachers.
Clerics and hysterics.
Papal delegates and celibates.
Televangelists and Adventists
And hostile Pentecostals.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 12:34 AM UTC
Hell is when you are in pain
But don't show it
Cause you don't want a million questions
Hell is when you feel pain
And there's no moral
No lesson
When you are trapped in emotion
And have no control over what will happen
When the tears roll down your cheeks and you can't stop them
When your soul is screaming
But no one will listen
When your soul aches
When your eyes are blinded by the heaviness
The hurt
The pain
And knowing that tomorrow,
The cycle stays the same
When smiling actually hurts your feelings because its proof that you're a liar
You're lying to yourself
And everyone else
Cause when they see that smile
They don't see the pain
The tears
The emotions felt
But just a facade you put up
Because you're scared.
Scared of the implications
And seeing how people actually feel-
Do they care about me?
Only God knows
And meanwhile the pain grows
Fornicates, multiplies!
And so do the lies
The "I'm okay"s
The "I'm fine"s
But back to what I was saying,
Hell is when you have a million ways
To explain your pain
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 5:45 AM UTC
Our lives are like ocean waves, born of a celestial entity among a diversified sea of possibilities. Direction and intensity set at birth with a future blurred by the endless horizon
Some waves wander alone, losing momentum as they are gradually ushered down by Earth’s gravitational pull before tragically coming to a rest among the blue abyss, destination never realized
Others are born of the unseen violence and upheaval between tectonic plates battling for dominion over the volatile landscape deep beneath the surface. Knowing no other way, they perpetuate the violence that created them, destroying and consuming everything in their path
Yet some join together, superimposed into a harmonious union that multiplies their strength and propels them forward until it’s waters gently meet the shore in an actualizing marriage of journey and destiny
Storms often boil up out of nowhere, dismantling adjacent waves. While a select few resist the onslaught, instead gaining strength and vitality. Like a conductor bringing a symphony to crescendo, the roil pushes these waves further than others in pursuit of their destination
This dynamic tapestry of new beginnings and violent ends blend together as one, eroding and shaping the land around them as they work out their daily squabbles. Heads barely above water, they continue onward towards the horizon blatantly disregarding a future for which they create
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 11:27 PM UTC
I am the patron saint of lost eyelashes
of foggy cloudless minds
and faded neon piping
of the Ocean's Retreat
of blown out birthday candles
when the wish-maker
never intended.
I am the patron saint of loose boards
creaking and rattling
skeletons
mere shadows of
past grandeur
and the wind quickens
and the light magnifies
and sensation multiplies
but the numbness maintains its steady and resolute path onwards
into the dark coils of the future.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 3:55 AM UTC
wake up at six 6am.
grab my phone.
check my feed.
you are always
there.
first post.
always wearing
your beautiful
smile.
maybe the algorithm
realized how
i stare at our photos,
some nights
before sleeping.
maybe he
makes the sum
of our unsaid words
and multiplies it
by those nights
i fell asleep in
your chest.
maybe he
never heard
our fights.
the shouting,
the crying.
or maybe he did
but just choose
to keep them
out of the equation.
maybe he
knows
you are still
the first person
i think of
when i wake.
i scratch my eyes
and keep scrolling.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC