Submitted for the #mmpoetrybattle prompt word: curls.
When we were kids, You called me on the telephone, and when you did, for a minute I felt less alone. Now that we’re grown, what fills my ear? All that I can hear -- just a dial tone. Turning the page, it curls and breaks just like the waves after an earthquake. Words in an array dancing like a ballet; my heart on display, arranged in a bouquet, for a woman named …
Written by Jungle, (C) 2021, all rights reserved.