The Accusation In Answers
we are worn glass;
lungs shorn to a staple
of grammatical haste
that worsens when
inhaled by smoke.
He tells me:
believe in ghosts,
and always let
pride supersede you.
but I don't have much
faith to those
that only tell me
that time is ticking
right underneath rib bones
and cigarettes.
There's no lines
to read between,
and I lied when I said
it was fine, and okay.
He says:
you're a cheater.
And I simply say,
tell me you weren't asking for it.
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.
