With aching feet,
I carry myself up the stairs,
searching for guidance in the dark
and finding the floor.
I would wail if I could only find my voice.
Instead,
I wipe my tears,
remove the pins from my hair,
and tuck myself into bed.
Love is in everything.
YOU ARE READING
HEAVENLY CORRUPTION
PoesíaThe ramblings of a woman who spent too much time in confession and too little time trying to figure out what exactly she was apologizing for.
