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Not Here Poem
I’m so perfectly perfect I have it all under control
My anxiety is running rampant
My death will be silent and slow
How frigid to feel the breeze on my skin
No matter the wind continues to blow
I’m stubborn I persist I don’t stop going toe to toe
My mind is reeling
My heart remains unfeeling
I must stop it I continue to grit
My fingers hurt from my theatrical shaping
My lips raw, trickling pomegranate seeds abating
Copyright © not here | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Not Here Poem
I can never fully relish in anything good
I'm too afraid of it being ripped away from me
I'm always on the brink of it all
The almost almost almost.
Not open but not closed.
Not white but not black.
Not mine but.
Copyright © not here | Year Posted 2024
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