This one needs more growing. I'll come back to it, I promise.
i'm one-half of a slinky,
and the other, he, stretches farther and farther.
This only ends with a thwack or a snap.
"Come back," i beg, my hand supported by my best friend's
i know he can hear me.
He pulls a tongue, hers,
i can taste the expiry date on the sweet nothings.
i know she wouldn't have wanted any of this.
This is about us, not her.
He bites. A tooth comes loose. And then he turns to pick it up.
Gravity does its thing.
YOU ARE READING
Waiting for the Rain to Fall
PoesiePoems that twine thread around the broken bits of a soul, that fling umbrella lips into beaming buckets and kind of just make you want to say, "life is beautiful, isn't it?" - a totally unbiased review from me, the author.
