I'm a riddle of strings, a man in the park you could see but wouldn't look into. I carried my love on my back and she'd sing me a song every time I would caress he face. And this indistinct moment, when a siren comes calling they stumble over to see the angel spreading his wings. It's not in tongues that I speak, but rather verse and reverse and so not many listen. But when it is dusk, and fireflies settles, I make my own light with my lover
YOU ARE READING
Floating
PoetryI've collected a lot of works I have made for me and thrown them into a mess of empathic poetry I have done for others.
