X.
i notice a flutter of light in the grass.
when i bend down to look closer, my vision grows fuzzy.
i extend my finger to touch the green blade.
one second of the most delicate contact,
and there is a patch of dead grass where the light used to be.
i am unsure if the light was there in the first place.
A
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fifteen (XV)
Poetryi prick my finger on a rose in my garden. my blood is not red. i take the wind caressing my face as a silent apology. cover art made by doradorapuff on tumblr. [2015] thank you to everyone who shared with me these short poems as they were published...
