Under The Bed
By dean_johnston
Sun, 12 Sep 2004
- 519 reads
1 comments
There were inky boys
spindle-fingered followers
who whispered your name
with sticky vowels
and wallpaper witches
and wardrobe eyes
but the real ones,
the ones who lurked outside
were the newspaper headlines
and the boy in your class with the cracked black eyes.
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Comments
Oddly moving... something
Permalink Submitted by wet_towels on
Oddly moving... something about this poem resonates with me. Very nice!
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