Sometimes it feels like moving on
When I’ve only moved around
Dancing with the shadows
Of the barely lit memories
Passion spread eerily over a bog
Co2 inhaled at every gasp
Invisible to the naked
Eyeing to monitor for warning
Was it intentional? A calloused choice?
Or ignorance and neglience?
Something sweet in front,
Nurtured from poison seeds?
Late nights of vulnerability
Exposure more than skin deep
Why did these roots catch
Suckling naivete from the source
Curiosity lends way to anger
But every avenue remains closed
Enough time has passed
I forgive your tortured, sad soul
YOU ARE READING
Processing
PoesíaA collection of poetry across ages, moments, and confusion. Tw - read at own desire
