Sometimes my eyes will desaturate
And fix themselves upon empty chasms
So that I would imagine filling them in
With sinking honey and flower petals-
A warm surrounding and a few familiar scents.
I think of myself as a desolate crater,
And I used to hope to be suffused with love-
A substitutional filling of my void of a heart.
YOU ARE READING
Sepulchral Lullabies
PoezjaA work in progress of a collection of my poems about hate, love, drugs and disorders. Hope you enjoy<3
