forever faster slips between my fingers
rather nasty kind of wind that burrows
between us: fuck your lover, not
your dreams - forever slowly drips into
the seams of what i thought would be
familiar.
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...
