I dreamed to write verses encapsulating your mystery, to paint you vividly without hues and blues but only words but I can find no content in what I see... Anything I write is inadequate. I think about you, and the words that follow, and the moment I see it, there is no heartbeat but merely an ick to delete every letter. Such enigma, such regret, I once dreamed to have. But right now, all I wish I never had.
YOU ARE READING
kinesus: a poetry collection
PoetryWords, 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...
