DON'T TELL ME TO FIX HER, she's not broken.

Traveling steps, hand in hand

Invincibly unbroken, surrepitiously hidden;

We.

Ripped away this current day,

an innocent, unknowing, leans in to say

How odd she is;

to Me.

To which I reply,

not unbecomingly sly,

You should see her when our lips brush.

 

unaware is the innocent,

I am suddenly blushing,

oh my.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741