Kathleen

If you could taste the air around me
You'd know the taste of yearning
For lodged in my oropharnyx
Something red is burning
Her name's Kathleen
I had a dream
She begged to be released
I didn't know how to let her out 
So both our pains increased
I feed her sour lemon drops and the cold grounds from my strainer
But someone somewhere seems to think
I need her on retainer
So tired with the sore and scratch
I told her to do the speaking
And all the things she spoke through me
Are the things you've been critiquing






 

ZoeBee

VT

18 years old

More by ZoeBee

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