"What's wrong?" My mother asked
Your name rose from the depths of my soul
up my throat
and onto my tongue
like vomit after a night of heavy drinking
Threatening to pass my lips
But I bit back your name
And swallowed the taste of you
- "I'm just tired"
YOU ARE READING
Of Band-Aids and Bullet wounds
PoetryA collection of poems and short stories from the depths of my soul
