i held my breath as you
ran your fingers along my ribs
and you told me all of the ways
you could pop me if i
were a balloon
and maybe that was what
i wanted right then,
to have somebody deflate me
so they could fill me up
with pretty words
and the taste of their lips
in the morning
YOU ARE READING
deadroses || poetry
Poetry"we had a vision though, now we dead roses" now, why did she send them? these broken down, wilted, beat up, rotten-looking flowers.
