& yet mine still battle's darkest corrupt,
itching to swallow every inch up;
hunting upon flaws in refusal to believe I'm loved,
some days mind barely echoes a reassuringly 'strong enough,'
yet - your three syllables rattle veins tough;
Truthfully.
the lights hand which keep wishing to embrace,
pulls further away in cosmic race;
but when falling down...
breaking apart as seconds pour about ground,
I gander towards the man mine have become
& the one found.
YOU ARE READING
Between an Antidote & a Dreary Phase
PoetryMy second Edition of a variety of Poetry feelings. For all the support and encouragements you all share with me - I do humbly appreciate all that you say and do. The feeling I get when another writer comments, or votes is imperial to how I interr...
