Cuffs
a steady drizzle of days
and hung-up
waiting for a future
to arrive
but
only more of the same
cold rain
and the circles the drops make
in the puddles
like hand-cuffs
to stick my wrists into
to keep from cutting.
More articles by Wayne F. Burke →
More articles in the poetry genre →
12/23/2019
12:14:05 AM