my thoughts carve fissures in the delicate skin of my wrist
and my demons play tug-of-war on my heart until it tears
and the hairline fractures in my heart go unnoticed by the world
but they bleed out and spread my disease
contaminating my whole body.
the flowers i had once thought were so beautiful
sliced open my skin with their thorns.
---
most of my poems are written at 3 in the morning.
if the capitalization bothers you just let me know.
- nicole borcyk
YOU ARE READING
poetic passion
Poetrythis is just a collection of my thoughts. some are a creatively worded rant and some are actual poems but all are mine so i would really appreciate if you didn't steal them. okay? okay.
