LXVII.
it started with closed eyes
and a tick in my brain,
and a feeling in my gut,
telling me to keep them closed
all the time.
A
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fifteen (XV)
Poezjai prick my finger on a rose in my garden. my blood is not red. i take the wind caressing my face as a silent apology. cover art made by doradorapuff on tumblr. [2015] thank you to everyone who shared with me these short poems as they were published...
LXVII
LXVII.
it started with closed eyes
and a tick in my brain,
and a feeling in my gut,
telling me to keep them closed
all the time.
A
