Drink off a Crisp Swig of Coffee
My Humility Tired Of
This Place
You Must be Tired Often A Witness to The Bargains
In Me
In My Defense I’ve Attempted to Find A Clearing to Empty My Garbage
Everything I Follow As I’m Searching For
Forever Young
This Life Isn’t a Faithful Lesson
I’m Reminded by my Frivolous
Whispers
I’m In the Insecurity Loving of You
I Wanting More to Call My Demons
and Laugh
Finding Footings
Along My Mistakes
Letting The Day Make Amends As to
Open Up
Suddenly The Shadows Loves My
Openness The Time I Had in
Receptivity
Forgets My Toils
Forget My
Thousand Promises
Just As I Wanted More In This
Life
Funny The Drops of Rain
In Their Washing of My
Delirious Appetite
Un-relentless Touches I’m Hoping
In The Present the Past
Becomes Sterile
I’m Not a Angel but in
Transgressions
I’ve Found Company Where Forgiveness
Dance on My
Soul.
About the Creator
Oso Creative
AAn enigmatic Soul running to creative Greatness!
Keep reading
More stories from Oso Creative and writers in Poets and other communities.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munsona day ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.