dancing on icicles in the crisp night air
fleeing the bustle of life
uncaring. uncommitted.
wanting to believe in something greater
a certain sadness -
and joy -
mixed and mingled.
breath flowing visibly
helter-skelter swirling fog.
the promise of new life
unfurling like a flower
budding slowly
reluctantly.
author's note: i don't know what it means, don't ask me, i'm defective.
YOU ARE READING
Fly Me To The Moon
ПоэзияA collection of poems that don't fit into my other book. Less depressing than my other one, I guess, but dark in some ways.
