In My Living Room
In my living room,
i am curled into a cedar rocker
listening to the spring rain
on my roof.
sipping on spidersilk chai,
webbing grasping onto
the ceramic rim
and the milk and honey
enveloping my lips.
i feel like my tongue is satin
and can speak no frail language
when i tell you love
is pain
and therefore is real.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
