I weave these ribbons between the hollows of my bones, sewing together the frayed flesh that you stripped bare in my pursuit of you. If I replace my heart with a Cuckoo clock, and my mind with a mocking bird, then maybe I'll sleep during these fitful nights of uncertainty.
3 Replies to “Busted | Poems that Suck”
So will the dog.
LOL indeed! He’s still looking at me strangely.
So dies the dog.