I swallow and gargle my own blood
A stealthy assassin you are
Your silence slitting my throat
You watch from a distance
Pretending to care
Hamlet esque
You pretend
Till the
End
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Kenneth cruz and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Light Turns
It's Tuesday 7:13 a.m. A cold and clear November morning awaits Ray on his morning commute. Ray rubs his hands together in the front seat of his Subaru. He turns the air temperature up, but keeps the air on low until the air warms up. He looks at the backup camera screen and reverses the Subaru out of his driveway onto Trimble Road.
By John R. Godwin2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
So breathtaking
Very heartbreaking poem. I loved it!