I spent last night tangling myself in my sheets,
Tossing and turning.
I'd say my eyes were closed and my mind rested for no more than an hour or two.
I shared some deep, dark secrets with the pale complexion of my ceiling.
And sang to my plants on the windowsill.
They seemed to enjoy my song.
A song composed by night terrors and the bleak darkness of waking up from the feeling of falling.
Silence ensues.
YOU ARE READING
Punctuation
PoetryPunctuation means everything. Punctuation does everything. Punctuation is everything. I'm promoting punctuation. Promoting bringing commas back, promoting exclamation points, promoting questions and promoting finishing sentences when they need to...
