i hold your soul,
ragged and wheezing,
in my shaking fingers,
feeling its sharp edges
digging into my skin,
disarming me
it is torn,
wounded,
hurting,
and yet,
it is far more powerful
than any other soul
i have ever had the good fortune
to touch
i know it is yours,
because even as i struggle
to encompass it in my grip,
it squirms,
unable to accept
that it is loved
your soul is an animal
guarded and feral,
but vulnerable all the same,
and a slew of contradictions
that i will not waste
your time in listing
it writhes,
still uncertain,
and the more it moves,
the harder i grasp on,
because i am finally
in control
i want you
i need you
your soul whispers
what your mouth cannot,
and what your heart
is too stubborn to admit
you are a creature of habit,
too caught up in your mindset
to realize what you have become;
a child,
entangled in your childish ways
of evading love
> so here's another poem that's up for your decoding. have at it, please. bc i love reading comments that actually dissect the words.
YOU ARE READING
broken bikes
Poetrypoetry is a vice. ➳ 2014 watty awards winner for poetry ➳ gorgeous cover by @mountainy