the rain drip-drip-drips down my cheek. i can hear the wolves. they cry out my name as if they were shattered glass. i catch a glimpse of her red overcoat. she flies like a raven. her claws tear through the woods, stick by stick. the leaves sink and so does my heart. for her love is a knife and the rain is not rain.
YOU ARE READING
untitled poems
Poesiathese are my untitled poems. i write when boredom strikes. they vary by my mood, and they may have different lines & stanzas than the next. they may rhyme. they may not. i don't capitalize my letters.