i wonder if i will
look back upon
all the ones who
gave me my firsts.
if i will glance over
my shoulder at
the hands still reaching
for me,
the lips still parted
in the shape of my name.
him, with the tongue
scraping at the ground
where i stepped.
him, with the fists
of daffodils and
violet smile.
him, with too much.
him, still standing there.
him, waiting.
and me,
just going.
YOU ARE READING
how the words come
Poetry"this is the poetry that has come from finally realizing it is okay to be okay but also not okay at the same time." ~ 'how the words come' tells the story of overcoming the aftermath of an emotionally abusive relationship. the book is separated into...
