I am one of the ashes,
one of the soils that fertilizes the ground
where you are buried.
I am one of the dried leaves
and withering petals
that whispers kisses in abandonment.
I am that corpse,
who was dead before she died.
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YOU ARE READING
Dark and Beautiful
PoetrySometimes my thoughts and hand bleed so much poetry I can barely stop them from leaking onto the paper. But sometimes, too, my heart bleeds too much blood that I couldn't write poetry anymore.
