the cold makes my teeth clank
like silver spoons in a forgotten drawer
in a home unfit to be classified as itself.
my legs quiver underneath me
fulfilling their duties of failure,
and i collapse onto the carpet below me.
as my head rests on the unwelcoming pillow,
i then understand the meaning of the cold.
YOU ARE READING
untitled poems
Poetrythese are my untitled poems. i write when boredom strikes. they vary by my mood, and they may have different lines & stanzas than the next. they may rhyme. they may not. i don't capitalize my letters.
