I'll bleed my secrets out,
Slicing until they drop from my skin.
They become fodder for the flowers,
They can keep my secrets in my stead.
YOU ARE READING
Short and Bittersweets
RandomShort poems. No more than 8 lines long. Fragments of thought really. Pretty words for the sake of pretty words.
Bleed
I'll bleed my secrets out,
Slicing until they drop from my skin.
They become fodder for the flowers,
They can keep my secrets in my stead.
