My dark friend
Grief is holding my hand, pressing my fingers. It's ok to die, it's ok. But how and when?
A question is hunting me, swaying my mortality.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To My Dark Friend (#Wattys2015)
PoesíaMy Dark friend, I have written those letters for you. It's getting darker before midnight .
When and how?
My dark friend
Grief is holding my hand, pressing my fingers. It's ok to die, it's ok. But how and when?
A question is hunting me, swaying my mortality.
