deepundergroundpoetry.com
Liebe. Love. Amour. Love.
I get glimpses of it in my chest
it feels like a warm pulse of sickness,
a change starting,
like a wound that isn't raw, but
content.
It's how I imagine the transition back to
breathing amniotic fluid would be.
Oh.
Learning, in the safety of someone else's
closed eyes.
it feels like a warm pulse of sickness,
a change starting,
like a wound that isn't raw, but
content.
It's how I imagine the transition back to
breathing amniotic fluid would be.
Oh.
Learning, in the safety of someone else's
closed eyes.
Published 7th Dec 2014
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
28th May 2015 6:38am
Hey champ. Love the poetry. Is this sexual? At first glance I thought it said lube. Okay bye
