Writing 

Once I get the words onto the page, 

No matter how messy they may be,

I become clean and light as air. 

Like someone taking a plastic scoop, 

Meant for pumpkins on Halloween 

To my insides. 

My guts are left out to dry over night,

And they stain each page

With a story that I once held 

In my stomach. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s