posessive (Remove filter)
When His Words Become Hands
His words could become sharp as corners
And trap you there
Flailing in his grasp
They could pinch your skin
Until you cried
And cried
Throughout your shifts
They could catch your wrists and stop you
From moving on
From moving
They could lock the doors, no leaving
They could shame you and shrink you
They could come flying in from an open window,
A buzzing phon...
Monday 8th March 2021 7:27 pm
Recent Comments
David RL Moore on Too late too late
2 hours ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
6 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
6 hours ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
7 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
7 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
8 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on The Policemen Arrest The Men.
8 hours ago
Ray Miller on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
8 hours ago
Ray Miller on The roads taken
9 hours ago