perhaps it was the scent of a past memory, or the colors on the walls, a sound of a music she used to hum to when she felt the ground breaking underneath her. but she remembered the distant voices, the little cries & laughter: a playground filled with the melody of gosammer voices & gleeful innocence. she couldn't hold onto that memory. the momory of these old songs & colors: how could she feel them without having them brush through her fingers as if they were ghosts she was desperately chasing to hold. ghosts of loved ones that never existed. she felt the blood beneath her wash over her legs: as she bid her goodbye and walked on the corpses of her old memories that would haunt her till the day she sees her god.
i see her when i look in
the mirror .
MEMORIES, 2024
YOU ARE READING
EVER HEARD OF FAITH?
Şiir"you of little faith," were the words i heard as i hear plates crashing in the living room, as i smell the fire burning the sheets on my bed, as i feel the bruises on the sides of my arm, as i sense the pounding of my heart, writhing to leave my che...
