My words are the leaves of winter: gone. Not seen or heard or read. I'm bare.
Tag: micro poem
Words
There they are: All words. I can see them at night up in the sky like stars.
migraine 7-7
The brain removed, then placed on two pitchforks and pushed inside: my migraine
migraine 7-6
A sheet of metal made iron hot and stuck in my head: The Migraine
Just Me
My words are lost; they belong to the ether now and I'm left with this.
CandyH2O 