Our souls find footing,
in the grasses of decay,
while the wild winds of March,
hold us under.
Dampened metaphors; broken, twisted, bite-sized truths,
yet still hard to swallow, for the taste is not the same
as your smile, or your laughter; your song--
but for now:
I will carry you inside of me,
to term.
YOU ARE READING
Please Don't Touch
PoetryPlease 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...
