2011
02.21
02.21
death lingers
in my pjs.
talks to me
in my sleep.
lingers
at midnight.
rings
in my bones.
collapses
in my brain.
shuts out
all sound.
learns
I’m desolate.
walks away.
death lingers
in my pjs.
talks to me
in my sleep.
lingers
at midnight.
rings
in my bones.
collapses
in my brain.
shuts out
all sound.
learns
I’m desolate.
walks away.
this little deaths poem “rings in my bones”
nice poem, desolate might be a good thing.
not the first time I read this one … amazingly though, it always feels like it!
This is great! It’s really clever. It made me laugh, because it seems so serious until you remember what the euphemism “la petit mort” really means.