SIXTY-TWO
woven between ribs
The flames are woven
in between
your ribs.
They've reached the grace of your heart.
You cannot water down the flames.
You cannot stop the smolder
in lungs that do not give.
When your hands are too cold to feel the beat,
the heat of your existence
will ignite you.
What's your favorite part of winter?
𒐀 I love when it snows. It's the best when I get to play in the snow with my dog. I also used to love getting days off/delays for school when I went to school. Now, snow days don't really exist in my adult world lol.
May
YOU ARE READING
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...
