Cold and numb
are my hands
as I type,
dust coating
my fingertips.
The darkness outside
looks in,
watching as I work.
The world is quiet,
still asleep.
I can think
and I can breathe.
In this moment,
all I can do
is pour my soul
into words.
I think my thoughts stop
when I do,
and my feelings
take over.
going under and out of control
YOU ARE READING
Titles are Overrated
PoetryThis is the equivalent of Notes app on your phone, so yeah, exposing myself. I guess it's considered poetry. Enjoy. :)
