childhood (Remove filter)
Young
We are not a metaphor.
Although, we have met before
I was a shy girl with bright blue eyes and you were a brown haired boy who played guitar on the bus
We grew up and grew together, inseparable
Unaware of what to call what we were, what we had
This was back when childhood was innocent and we still weren't sure how to kiss
Lips, mouths, necks, hands
We figured t...
Tuesday 18th April 2017 9:27 pm
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on EVEN THE OLIVES ARE BLEEDING
11 minutes ago
John Marks on EVEN THE OLIVES ARE BLEEDING
30 minutes ago
Hélène on Better Sight...
31 minutes ago
Hélène on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
35 minutes ago
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Where is THIS Jerusalem?
2 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on A Cut Above
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Haiku for 2025 [No. 31. Brussels Boycott]
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Civilities
5 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Stats (To be continued)
5 hours ago