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How easily the heart is stolen,
still the soul so slowly to be woken;
Flee from swelling screams,
farther ye spree,
further.... till none recognize secrets in memories keep;
Hold what doesn't mean to be given,
everything told for unique, true-blue eyes which listen,
for sole handed pair enfold misplaced passion missing –
you can breathe finally as like stars' exuberant blinking.
YOU ARE READING
Between an Aphrodisiac & a Loathing Place.
PoetryA collection of poetry that has been written from me (and my constant battle with wrecking insanity). Some will make sense; some will leave you with a big ole' question mark; but, like myself, not everything can be precise and make definite sense...
