tired grin
over
pink sunset
dead boy nervous
hand tickles my aching
spine... our coffee is bitter
and shivering,
but we are both so
happy in this second
dragging into another:
i can nearly taste
the ability to forget
in between.
YOU ARE READING
soft light
Poetryi just want to feel okay again. poems written circa 2017-2020. what a wacky time to exist. if a lot of these seem unhinged it's probably because most of them were written while i was in a very abusive relationship. tw for occasional themes of addict...
