[a poetry collection]
a dance to the fleeting emotions,
notes to the music of life,
a story of everything felt and told
yet still,
so many stories;
so very untold.
Of nights spent in solace
of people so much more.
Rankings:
🥇#poetry...
Anything made of glass, held up in my palms; speak not of my own heart— unworthy it was; to be splintered; once upon a night, drenched in rain— filtered in your glass; my tar, coal black.
.
Unworthy was my carcass; to be buried in peace I took to sewing— your splintered soul, so very worthy of my hands to graze.
LOKI
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