[2018]
Breathing fire into my needy lungs.
The burning sensation fuels my mind.
Calming.
Burning my fingertips black and then creeping up my hand.
I can't wait longer.
Not a moment more.
I breathe in.
Without a trace.
YOU ARE READING
poem
Poetrya miscellaneous poetry archive ive had since about 2017. sorry for its disrepair.