til your heart defrost,
before your hands become so icy.
how long will i had lost,
for everything to be so precisely.
til your hands become less cold,
the minute each lie escape from your lips to unfold,
til the leaves become so crisp in the fall,
when the trees say a call.
when time is no longer consistent,
when your lips become rather repetitive.
will you then keep in your distant,
and things wont be so competitive.
written by AfrikanGoddess
please vote and comment
also not completed
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Joy is a Book { fast updates}
PoesíaI've been fond of poetry since the dawn of time, so this is my love letter to poetry. I've decided to keep the poems I wrote in 2017 to show my growth, which isn't the easiest decision. My poems are about my insecurities, loss, grief, and triumph. I...
