Every fiber of me yearns, an unnerving desire—for the thoughts in my mind to grace my lips like blood stains ghost-kissed fabric.
For my words to be heard by another soul with a mind untouched by my own.
Yet to utter the echoes circling my mind
feels so fearsome, they belong only
to ink and paper.
As I glide a lifeless pen to shape words full of breath,
they remain empty—
a haunting remnant of my vulnerability.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts for the Eye
PoetryThoughts I wrote down, maybe they'll give you some comfort? "But I feel something deeper. Beneath the fear, there is a fire inside of me, one I cannot extinguish. It burns with the pain and the rage of all the women who came before me. " PS. If...
