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deepundergroundpoetry.com

My foster dad the vulture

the screams of wrought iron                         stabbed the empty house.    
                                              
 the house that always seemed loud    
                                
                                                             regardless of the occupancy.  
My white-knuckle grip anchoring myself                to the steel bars of the bed  
   
                                    The orchestra of the trundle    drowning out everything but you    
                                                         you shuddered and cried out as you came  
   
                                             “I love you”  
   
You love me like a vulture loves a dying animal
Written by ShaleeSue (Shalee)
Published
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