turn:
i look through my journal, of ambitions and ideas and lists
and i see your name, the gifts i wanted to give you: flowers, coloured pencils, a notebook
my hand is not quite frozen, but paused for a long, long time
the page feels almost heavy? more than that, i keep rereading the words, the thoughts i put so much care into
maybe i am searching the scribbles for answers? but i know they will never give me anything more than they already have
and eventually, i turn the page
tick:
i look at the broken clock at my bedside,
ticking for however long i let it waste my batteries, make me lose my sense of time
it is lulling me to sleep with the hollow click of gears not quite turning, but moving on nonetheless
i wrote more stuff and have no patience so i decided to post again bc i can. have a nice day/evening/night <3
YOU ARE READING
bursts
Poetrybursts: the words that come out of my brain when i get inspired. spontaneous and (hopefully) impactful poetry. (some poems contain death, suicide, murder, and mentions of rape. message me if u want a list of trigger warnings for each poem.) p.s. t...
