❝a rustic array of verses that whisper themselves through the centuries and into our souls.❞
☾︎ a poetic escapism; bringing stories from the windermere library in my mind, to you.
-m.h.
☾︎ hr :
1 in poetry,
1 in poems,
1 in poesia.
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an ode to demons, to sadness, to vultures and to madness.
☾︎ you were just a frame hanging at the back of my life, tying my hand to the time left behind, the kind of picture i only detailed once in a while, a renaissance i escaped as a child.
questions, questions, forgone minds, my friends told me it'll be alright if i smile.
☾︎ you were that side of a building that never saw the sun, shadows running were your only smoking gun, that part of the sky that never felt free, you were a fight i wish i had never intervened.
a little child that is just so naive, reckless insecurities drowning in their eyes, a child shouldn't be wondering how to grow up right;
☾︎ you were just a frame hanging over my head, unspoken yet so many words said, but so long as time can heal open wounds, these gray clouds will hide behind a silver moon,
as long as i can keep going for a few more moments, the shades of dawn will colour my life before i know it.
