summer quietly creaks open the back door
slips from beneath your skin
records shattering
as you stare down from the
attic, living in
slow motion.
it's gone before you can
remember what warmth even is.
sadness warps an old yellow novel
you used to love, holding it close
as it twists and moans.
now,
rip the
best chapter out
because
it belongs to
you.
YOU ARE READING
soft light
Poetryi just want to feel okay again. poems written circa 2017-2020. what a wacky time to exist. if a lot of these seem unhinged it's probably because most of them were written while i was in a very abusive relationship. tw for occasional themes of addict...
