top of page

Decay By Maddy Brindley

  • Writer: Tin Can Poetry
    Tin Can Poetry
  • Mar 12, 2024
  • 1 min read

I have a bruise on my wrist

that looks just like my father.

Yellowing and peeling and sore to the touch.

At least it doesn’t smell

Like him too.

Recent Posts

See All
True By Ben Aizenberg

Eat my heart And all its trappings Take it while it still beats. Eat. Within its chords are our days, Each more fleeting than the last....

 
 
 
Your Bitch By Lauren Lenyi

From a very young age I was made to help, Hold, support, and heal. I was good at my role. But what no one understands Even though I act...

 
 
 

1 Comment


Millycstead
Mar 14, 2024

I love this, incredible work!

Like
bottom of page