"are you okay?"
he breathes.
silence, cold stares.
"you okay?"
silence,
tear-soaked walls,
slurry vision,
burnt bricks,
bloody tears.
"you remind me, I'm not okay at all." she sighs.
the line hangs with a loud bang.
YOU ARE READING
the slow art of breathing bitter
Poetryslow dancing love and pain in the midnight chorus of liquor-washed autumn green ... || a constellation of destructive poetry ||
