These are the nights of craving. Of crackling fires with slender fingers grasping for heartstrings like they do air. Of sweetness. The sugar. Like fresh crisp snow falling effortlessly onto awaiting tongues. Of adventure. The desire to delve dangerously into the unknown. And then there are nights of craving lost sanity. Filling of empty spaces. Creases on whitewashed faces. This map needs more journeys. A few freckles won't suffice for this wanderlust-riddled mind. -22/9/18
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Broken Roses
PoésieA collection of cerebral poetry dwelling on the highs and lows of the richness of life...
