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More from ~bailey--elizabeth

breathing is secondarythe tap water is too cold
to rinse the ice from my throat
and the chill from my lungs

but what does it matter, when
the birds in my ribcage
are all flying, up up up
and through my skull,

and falling, down down down
and onto the floor
landing in front of my feet,

the same ones that
stood me still in the snow
and wouldn't let me leave
to find somewhere warm.

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May 28, 2010
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ALL ARTWORK IN MY GALLERY IS © ME, BAILEY ELIZABETH. DO NOT USE, REPRODUCE, OR MODIFY MY IMAGES OR WRITING IN ANY WAY WITHOUT MY WRITTEN PERMISSION. DON'T STEAL MY ART - MAKE YOUR OWN.
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