Lately,
we've just been throwing rocks at the sun.
our handfuls of broken glass
curse the wind,
wondering where did we go,
where have we been?
we had our own place,
hidden behind the sunsets,
Now broken at the sunrises.
somewhere we were picked up and thrown
somewhere we fell and shattered.
don't let us die
don't let me go.
no matter how many times we meet
at our secret spot
in between the sun and night,
the sun will always tear us apart the next morning.
the stars and moon are our witnesses,
we are meant to be worlds apart.
About the Creator
cookie foot
writing is my therapy don't bully me
Keep reading
More stories from cookie foot and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Fish Song
The room didn’t smell like disinfectants. Its fragrance seemed light and not overbearing. A soft mixture of lavender and mint permeated the space. No beeping machines or any tubes hooked up to four-year-old Kaleeka. Her cacao skin seemed to glow from the light over her head. The family, save for one and the doctors and nurses exited the room like a trail of saints showing their last vestiges of regard.
By Skyler Saunders4 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.