Trace these scars on my lips
For they are pathways
Through which I whisper your name
From the depth of my heart.
They are the quakes when my eyes floods about my face.
YOU ARE READING
Dead Letters
PoetryWe 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.
Scar
Trace these scars on my lips
For they are pathways
Through which I whisper your name
From the depth of my heart.
They are the quakes when my eyes floods about my face.
