A letter to myself:
He is perfect.
North, South, East, and West.
But alas, the commitment
To omit any scent
Of any luring cologne.
A soulmate in mind,
But a soulmate
Already named.
Ashame.
Tower words of love,
Not want.
But W̶h̶a̶t̶ is it,
That the rhythm
Truly craves?
Whom*
Someone dancing in the palm,
Or a silhouette out of reach?
YOU ARE READING
Bloodless
PoesíaA poetry anthology pertaining to things that block the light in certain tunnels. A warning: Most of these poems tackle family issues, sexual abuse and other dark topics. All poetry was created by Avanna Limon.
