God sends wet kisses
as lipstick stains
to make the ground jealous.
It was never love, you fool.
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Poetry and writers in Poets and other communities.
my feet are playdough you carve my toes into a rose something to brighten the dark wooden dresser in your bland bedroom
By Poetry3 years ago in Poets
Mankind is Icarus and our own pride is the wind that deafened him as he flew, drowning out any other thoughts or sensibilities
By Donny Foley4 days ago in Poets
A hollow monument Constructed in Honor of my memory The only evidence I forgot Is carefully archived Forever locked away
By K.B. Silver 6 days ago in Poets
From our bedroom upstairs, my husband drops something heavy on the floor, forcing my attention away from the laptop screen.
By Kera Hollow7 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.