The wind drags me toward the edge,
a cold hand at my spine.
It murmurs of an endless sleep,
a final, quiet line.
Salt-stung air clings tight to me,
whispers “why not let go?”
I stand, a shadow on the shore,
and wonder if it knows.
YOU ARE READING
Wilted roses from me
PoetryDelves into the beauty and fragility of human emotion through evocative and poignant poetry. This collection captures the essence of sorrow, love and introspection with a unique blend of lyrical elegance and raw honesty. Each verse/stanza explores...
