silence shaped as a statue, as an event without edges
when I think of myself, i am described with one eye
what some might call audacity, having lost something
trivial as a small death, a delusion-how many shapes
in a circular object, the veil of an iris, in the gorgeous
sea, where it is raining, and has been, the voices of the
past
too busy to be still
YOU ARE READING
poetry for the poetic: 5
Poetrythis is my fifth poetry book on this profile! please check out my other 4 x thank you for reading ❤️