xxvi. WISHFUL HIGH TIDES.
i have parts of you in the cracks of my books,
in the corner of my room in the things you left
behind, in the middle of my mind and in between
the bruises of my soul. you are like the grain of sand
finding its way into every nook and cranny with only
a single beach visit. i hope one day the tides are high
enough to wash you away.
YOU ARE READING
what tomorrow brings.
Poetryxvii, april. (iii). you have no voice if no one is listening. © playlist poetry h.r. : #3
