i started an unintentional conversation, trying to clean up unwashed blood from the white lace curtains.
when my stomach doesn't agree with my thoughts, that's when you know you're completely wrong.
people aren't meant to be homes, i learned that first hand.
you make me feel at home and it scares me.
a place or feeling of overall comfort, a solid peace of mind. a person can walk away within minutes and a room can be painted in hours.
painted in white lace curtains, your home only worsens.
blood-drained virgins, hung with beloved sermons.
our dream home is beyond destroyed, lacking major personality.
not all dreams are meant for reality.
YOU ARE READING
my poetry - kelsey loch
Poetrymy personal work, all written by me - i post them here so i can reflect on myself and my writing easily. writing is my greatest passion, and i hope you love my work. all feedback is appreciated!
