there's not, there's not been a single person
who've become wary of the divine
priests and nuns prayed in the last cross;
in this garden full of fake hearts—
are we not lost?
'cause we love the lies of the white night,
more than the truth of the abyss
for we had given all of our last hope
in one divine thing,
for just one last kiss?
divine
March 08, 2023
YOU ARE READING
Pieces of Moonbeams
PoetryPieces of Moonbeams | 2023 This poetry collection contains proses & proses woven from my heart. Pieces here are a part of me. Stained by longing, love, grief, hurt, happiness, and any other available emotion I could profoundly describe. -- I am rel...
