Morning Breath

I woke up this morning
With sand in my eyes
And spit on my face
My first thought was "YOU"

On the edge of the bed
I woke up this morning
Slightly turning my head
Inhaling the smell of menthol
Moth balls never smelled so sad

Stretched out my arm
And gripped the worn wrapper
I woke up this morning
With a cramp in each arm
From holding on so tightly
To the nothingness that you have become

I woke up this morning and you are still dead

[Laydee-B]

Ma lemme tell you this:
a real poet is someone whose words inspire you
a real poet is present when they get the point across in a few sentences sometimes even a few letters
an authentic poet is represented by a poem which sparks the brain and makes the simplest human anaylze each sentence word by word
and cyclone u've achieved this....Poetry lives in u

thanx

[gabyebony]

Originally Posted by Cyclone

I woke up this morning
With sand in my eyes
And spit on my face
My first thought was "YOU"

On the edge of the bed
I woke up this morning
Slightly turning my head
Inhaling the smell of menthol
Moth balls never smelled so sad

Stretched out my arm
And gripped the worn wrapper
I woke up this morning
With a cramp in each arm
From holding on so tightly
To the nothingness that you have become

I woke up this morning and you are still dead

woa: u don't even wanna know what u got me thinking!