thin cuffs stained with red
on your arms dried and bled
why incriminate and lock our souls
in a prison cell of voices,
and erratic heartbeats,
when grief
was never a crime?
—Crime; 070620
YOU ARE READING
kinesus: a poetry collection
شِعرWords, how I love them, especially when my heart weaves them into verses that mirror facets of life, most I have worn and seen, some I merely envision. Regardless, the words brought me here, the same way it brought you to me. This is kinesus, a coll...
crime
thin cuffs stained with red
on your arms dried and bled
why incriminate and lock our souls
in a prison cell of voices,
and erratic heartbeats,
when grief
was never a crime?
—Crime; 070620
