deepundergroundpoetry.com
When she spurts her brine but your the shadow of a dream in their works hallway stairwell corridor on a Saturday evening
I could erase everything I had written
but my ideas would default the same.
my tongue has a palate for sickness
and it's scripted in the thought of your name.
but my ideas would default the same.
my tongue has a palate for sickness
and it's scripted in the thought of your name.
Published 21st Feb 2020
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21st Feb 2020 8:10pm
21st Feb 2020 8:12pm
God I hope you don't, erase, that is. I hate when writers do that. I understand and am not judging; but I hate it nonetheless. The truth of a poem is beautiful. And, like you said, erasing it doesn't change that. It only hides a truth which would touch others.
Anonymous
- Edited 23rd May 2024 11:45am
9th Apr 2021 4:43pm
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