I have sown my ribcage closed, never again will my heart flutter out of my chest when you walk by, never again will I feel the lightness of butterfly wings beating against my heart, even though I have never felt it with you. I liked to imagine this drumming in my chest threatening to burst through its cage was a butterfly.
-sometimes pretending is easier
YOU ARE READING
Bleeding Ink
PoetryI will not pretend to be a poet. I simply lace letters into words, words in verses and these verses are my feeling which have slowly bled through the pages of my notebook. This is my "Bleeding Ink".
