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Poetry

MELANCHOLY | 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...

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eighty-three | rain

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by MayGarner

by MayGarner

EIGHTY-THREE
this rain is still cold at my lips

And I am jealous
of the rain for it coats and licks
your skin.
Closer than I will
ever be to touching you.

  

 Sunrises or sunsets? 
𒐀 Sunsets, always. I'm usually at work before the sun rises, or I'm asleep, so I'm not able to really catch a good sunrise anymore.

May