My poetry has big bones
And big ideas too
She wears vintage lace
And she remembers every time she was slipped on...
Poetry smokes green in the grass with her lover
and dissects the sun for she remembers its inception.
Poetry says -
"I’m with you in this life and the next, I will eat every piece of
you whole, wiping up what's left and wringing the cloth out in
my mouth, because my survival depends on your every drop"
Poetry is the story that lives in the wooden box on the shelf.
Forgotten but not.
Poetry is dragging you to the finish line
and has ten thousand ways to say
You are necessary.
For me -
Poetry is how i process -
My grief
My love
My numbness…
The monsters under my bed
Poetry is how I breathe...
More from Bex ↓
