The morning sunlight so dull, like the ever emerging fear of never being good enough.
She was so cold, like the breezes of the Antarctic flying through her window.
And her skin, her skin so pale, so cold, but so incredibly soft. there was no single thought left in her wise little head.
she was relaxed. she was ready.
YOU ARE READING
Her Poems
PoetryIn the making. short little poems for a quick read. a quick fix of inspiration for your next book.
