Silently, she wished they could stay like this forever, fingers pruning and pale. But eventually the water always ran out from their hands, slipping over the edge or escaping through those dark little crevices they forgot were there.
Flowing to the void, for someone else to find.
YOU ARE READING
My Poems
PoetryMy poem app went to hell so I'm posting all my works here from now on. They are a mix of types and a lot are sad.
