the keeper of memories
the bearer of potential
the theif of breath
the healer of ache
and
the cause of my madness
teases me,
knowing i'll never be able to grasp it
yet it dances around me in a still,
tender tempo.
YOU ARE READING
baby blue
Poetryupon my death, may you sprinkle my ashes on your pillow, so you can feel me in your lungs and breathe for me as I once did for you. . a collection of poems.
