Strawberry juices running down parted lips,
Gliding, lightweight wings of a cardinal,
Dripping of blood from a rip in the skin.
Deep reddened cheeks,
Some bitter radishes,
Bloodshot eyes from no sleep.
The fluttering wings of a lady bug,
A burn from the sun,
That soft smell of red roses,
A gulp of dark red wine.
YOU ARE READING
Vᥱrsᥱs
ŞiirBeing a writer, my brain is filled with glorious ideas. I want to give my words life- and these are mine.
