Borderline
A cutting-edge persona poetry journal obsessed with coloring outside of the lines & pushing the limits of existence to new heights.
-
Helen of Troy
Sometimes I imagine myself as a vast
wooden horse. I am ten stories tall, carved
of oak and pine. I am polished to a gleam.
A work of Art. A peace offering.
Sometimes I imagine thirty men crouched
inside the twisting dark of my belly.
They are sharpening their knives. Waiting. -
-
singyoursight liked this
-
writeitdowncoollike reblogged this from borderlinepoetry
-
yesikastarr reblogged this from borderlinepoetry
-
meganfalley liked this
-
borderlinepoetry posted this
-
