Melted
and reformed
to be burned again.
A body of wax
never subtracted
from your beauty.
Your soul
lit
for the world to see.
When nothing is left,
particles in the air,
what will they presume you
to be?
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2019)
PoesíaShort poems of varying subjects and construction, but deep enough to be swallowed in. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. These were written mostly in the year 2019. Please feel free to leave any feedback...
