And they called it, puppet love . . I never knew you had dimples. You’ve never shown them to me. You’d laugh and you’d roar with a voice filled with cymbals but you’d never smile for me. I’ve tired out the one-liners, the puns, the slapstick - and I'm tired from the word play, the knock-knock, the… Continue reading Threaded
You make me want to put my fingers at my temples Dig them in, massage away the sound of your voice the way you leave me no choice, your cruel insinuations Scratch with my nails, mark crescents around my ears You paste me under the wallpaper, hang my toes from the chandeliers. I wear away… Continue reading Skinned.