Your shoulder blades jut from your back
Like nails from the siding of an old house
I see how you move, with your joints creaking
The same ghosting tune of a deserted home
Closing my eyes, I can keep swing time
With the rhythm of your footsteps
Name ringing out a hush, they fell silent to you,
Oh towering light post
Now command not with your physicality
But with your voice
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Journal Uploaded
ŞiirThis is a digital copy of my physical poetry and prose journal. While it is meant simply to be a backup, I sincerely hope that you enjoy reading what you find in here! This journal goes back almost two years now so I hope I have improved, and I thin...
