Friday, October 16, 2015

Classical mechanics, complicated machines

It's time the things you
say and do
stop messing with
my body.

you are near,
my knees get weak.
you leave,
I get allergic to the air.

you look at me,
I drop the world.
you turn away,
my heart caves in.

you fabricate me stories,
I pass out.
you keep silence,
I die.

Everyday a little.

1 comment:

  1. What an amazing title to this poem. You always know how to describe the passionate nature in the most touching of ways, Kenia.