I am not you.
I can live
in this black shoe
laced so tight
my toes are blue.
I am not you.
You dug up the earth
before the grass grew
before the worms
were even through.
But I suppose
you always knew
when they finally
came for you
you’d choke yourself
on that achoo.
But I am not you.
Categories: Literary Lounge
Awesome!
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Haunting poem, powerful and beautifully written. This is great!
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Hi Sophie. It’s tragic the number of brilliant, intelligent women that have killed themselves because of the very thing that makes them great – their womanhood.
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