Drip drip drop
I like the ash-colored sky that towers above us. Each cloud with a story, each sound with a song
Drip drip drop
I like it when I leave the bathroom sink faucet on, just slightly, so I can hear throughout my dreams
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I like the way the lies you spill bleed off your lips like lipstick
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The entire world wants me gone. I want it too. I want to splatter like a raindrop falling from the heights of the heavens
Drip drip drop
When my stepdad showed up in the people you might know column 3 years prior to his death. All I could see was stop. All I could hear was stop. Just make it stop. I want to stop. Just let me stop. Get away from her
Drip drip drop
YOU ARE READING
A Spark Of Hope
PoesíaTHE GESTURE: By George Oppen The question is: how does one hold an apple Who likes apples And how does one handle Filth? The question is How does one hold something In the mind which he intends To grasp and how does the salesman Hold a bauble he int...
