TWENTY-FIVE
honey drips from every creviceHoney drips from my fingertips,
coating your wounds in it.
It soaks into your lungs
where all the suffering hibernates.
Are you still breathing?
I know the truth even though I'm asking.
How is your heart holding up?
Is it strong enough to take me with you?
What are some of your favorite holiday foods?
𒐀 Any kind of dessert, dinner rolls, and those little cheese & pickle trays.May
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𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 ➙ 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺
PoetryMELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. SOON TO BE A PUBLISHED PAPERBACK. COMING 2025! This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly, you begin to forget I even exist. All of me, the hard parts of flesh you could never seem to love...