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Literature Text
After lunch, I lean over the sink,
pressing my face against the cold porcelain.
I gently stroke the red rings of flesh in my throat,
and make myself throw-up,
hoping the illness can disappear down the drain
along with my broken hopes and dreams.
pressing my face against the cold porcelain.
I gently stroke the red rings of flesh in my throat,
and make myself throw-up,
hoping the illness can disappear down the drain
along with my broken hopes and dreams.
..
© 2009 - 2024 Rosary0fSighs
Comments1
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so beautifully sad.
like most of your work.
like most of your work.