Forget this
Burning and ice packs and waiting.
My whole life is
burning and ice packs and waiting
for at least another month.
I hate that I am
memorializing this
in a poem.
Because I never want to remember
burning and ice packs and waiting.
One thought on "Forget this"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
You give form through repetition and that is a good thing to build a poem around.