Mess
No one scrubbed the hammock.
Or brushed the cabinet.
Distant like lukewarm cinnamon.
Being an astronaut is a chore.
To look at space gunk?
And you think it’s chilly up there.
Oof.
Nope it’s teetering and croaking.
Gah!
Gaslighting you like a fossilized fudge sundae.
Nothing is messy in outer space.
So they didn’t take the bleach along.
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.