In that ink well dipped in a honeysuckle moon she lifted the parchment to become a mountain only to emancipate an orchid who's drowned in horizons who's surrendered to lavender covet who's committed fraud to true reflections and who's arrow has pierced the still crimson breath of unintended muses
YOU ARE READING
Words Better Unsaid
PoetryThis a collection of almost all the poems I have written. I will be updating sporadically,it all depends on what I can unearth from my Facebook ramblings & present feelings.
