her eyes flutter shut
colours bloom
weave her vision
her eyes snap back open
drunken
dream-dazed
and desire
her eyes focus
don't tell her what she can't take
she doesn't know
the difference of
what's real
and what's fake.
YOU ARE READING
the lowest heights
PoesíaI thought to write this book as a little more abstract and informal because I needed something that's just a small escape from everyday life because, as all of you probably know, life is hard. I hope you enjoy these small poems and little rants. Tha...
