PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Waking up to the foul taste
Feels like I am storing ash
It is bile and disgusting
Yet I won’t spit it out

In the early hours, I am confused
No, this is not a tent
No, I can’t hear the water, River or Ocean

Waking up to soreness
The infected hole in my chest
Itching and burning as I am turning away
Away from your colours
From your world and love
Finally come to rest in the peace
I couldn’t find with you