"How easy it would be to shove a knife to my delicate and frail chest. Where you see my veins run like a river, at any moment that boat gets stuck between that river and clots the stream and can't continue it's journey
—
If you ripped my heart out you could hold it in your hands like a snow globe and observe the lilac strings and lines that run down that crimson fist."
YOU ARE READING
misty eyes, silent cries || poetry ;
Poetryoriginal poetry i've written for the past few months, that seem relevant.
