THIRTY
unwillingly yoursYou are the secret that I keep hidden
down the street and beneath the sheets.
How many times can I tip the window seal?Your bed lays deeper than mine
when we are both lost in the depths of it.
Find me where the walls do not conceal,
what the comforter does not cover.You whisper what we can have if I stay the night,
but we both know I always leave.― Unwillingly
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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...