Bruised knuckles,
Split lips.
Thinly veiled regrets
In glints of silver
And sunken eyes.
Wasting away
In pungent smells,
Drowning in drunk truths
And sober lies.
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Ink
PoetryPoetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. - Thomas Gray. A collection of all the poems that I've written.
Regrets
Bruised knuckles,
Split lips.
Thinly veiled regrets
In glints of silver
And sunken eyes.
Wasting away
In pungent smells,
Drowning in drunk truths
And sober lies.
