Night coldly lit by flying sparks
Hands around my waist with a particular shape
Kissed by the lampost unexpectedly
Smooth, kind, gentle
Snap of fingers
Out of breathe with you saved
Sticky ice cream all over are hands
Summer sun warming my heart
Beating fastly like a drum
Blood as red as a rose and words beat me to it
What would I ever do,
With you?
YOU ARE READING
My Unstable Poetry
PoetryA diary of sorts. 2015-2017. A poetry collection of angst, depression, and epiphanies.
