I take one shuddering breath,
A slow and painful process.
It reminds me that I’m still alive.
And with that one shuddering breath,
I keep going,
Just so I can do it again.
YOU ARE READING
Storm Prophecies
PoetryRain falls in crosshatch across the lamp lit sky, splattering the asphalt ground with splashes of reflected light. I look at the sketchbook in my hand and trace the penciled rain and smudged glow. It was shit. I let to book fly onto the muddy grass...
