Your voice quakes on my breastplates
Resounding thuds of Fear.
Short-circuited in streams of thoughts flowing momentarily.
I dare to think of you.
YOU ARE READING
Dead Letters
ПоэзияWe are Afraid. The supposed Ones with bravery of hearts are weakened because of affection. Now we lay low on succulent beds and Undercovers. These are my honest Dead Letters.
Dare
Your voice quakes on my breastplates
Resounding thuds of Fear.
Short-circuited in streams of thoughts flowing momentarily.
I dare to think of you.
