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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 23, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 23, 2016

A A A

A A A


They really shouldn’t put us so close to the tracks- People like us.
The sound.
A constant reminder.
A constant temptation.
 
Oh how I’d kill to find a hair of hers in my food.
To inhale her morning breath.
I’d die happily in a room filled solely with carbon dioxide produced from her lungs.
Her lips around my fingers.
The closest the two of us ever were.
Ever will be.

 


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