When the tide is high, at night; sometimes
and sleep comes un-easily, waves
wash, dragging me in.
Feel the depths of my pain,
and I won't keep warm and dry,
roll over me, ocean.
And it's so fucking cold,
and all my silent screaming
goes unheard,
but there is a voice, in this madness,
and I will find a way to make it sound.
YOU ARE READING
Please Don't Touch
PoesíaPlease Don't Touch is my first self-published book of poetry, written and published originally in 2012. #51 in Poetry, 3 June, 2017 #85 in Poetry, 4 June, 2017 #108 in Poetry, 25 May, 2017 #136 in Poetry, 26 May, 2017 #149 in Poetry, 24 May, 2017 #1...
