Poems from Monica Bell
There is a house that sits on the corner of Autumn Street
That same house sits on the corner of my soul
It is decorated with red and orange...
The last time I saw you
Your body was pale blue.
Your wrists slit
With candles lit.
In a bath covered with blood.
Now that room still with...
My mother unknowingly inspired me to write.
This poem is dedicated to her.
My mom. My former best friend.
The same mother who let me get...
Put me on your door.
Hang me up
Like a Christmas wreath.
With dark red bows
And seasons greetings.
Let my blood stain the seasonal curtains...