The silence of two lovers,
Who've dug so hard, that they reached their earths core,
Or that they thought,
Dug their own graves,
A modern Ghost story.
Alive, breathing and yet throwing flowers to a beating heart,
An intrusive mind, running on all fours,
I look at my reflection,
I don't recognize myself anymore,
As if I've become a ghost without facing death,
Haunting the people I love,
With my silence;
YOU ARE READING
The Half-Burnt Boy
PoetryFor all the prompts I find fascinating on this thing called the "World Wide Web," and random words I find interesting enough to add to this collection; I'll be crafting poems out of thin air like any magician would do 🪄 Copyright © 2021 by Aloka Wi...
