My home is troubled waters, intent on harm.
Humoured by other torrential bodies,
burning bridges just to stay warm.
A home built inside a ribcage when life lacked.
Full of leaks and shadows that taunt my plight.
A home where the electricity is perfectly intact,
but I never bother to turn on the light.
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...
