Her dark hair was a mystery I longed to explore, and her smile lit the darkest parts of my soul. Her gentle freckles gave her a feeling of home that I longed to curl up with. Her heart was open and filled with youth, it extended sweet tendrils that sounded vaguely like words. She liked my tattoos, and she asked after my ink, as I spoke I fell deeper into a resonating bliss, so much that I show up weekly just to see her. So what do I do now? I ignore her.
YOU ARE READING
Floating
PuisiI'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.
