October child,
all sea and solitude.
Hollow chest cavity stuffed with
salt and sadness and subterfuge.
Depths that want to drown my name,
to swallow and forget.
It floats with the tide,
but I don't recognise the ocean
for her waves anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Blood Orange Periphery / 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺
Poetry❝The calm in my marrow spoke in muted bursts of fireworks. I was born for explosions and trying to be less.❞ Over the past decade, I've written poems, books, short stories, fanfiction and hundreds of thousands of words, but nothing felt complete. Th...
