We thin, changing leaves in changing seasons,
translucent as we fall,
Pressed between books, our hears lie flattened
exposed to whoever happens upon that page next.
Each vein, each emotion
easily traced,
easily broken;
pulled apart like old love letters that have sat untouched
Fragile and beautiful,
we go through life like stained glass and skeletonleaves.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing with Ghosts
PoetryA collection of poems coping with the juxtaposition of grief and beauty, pain and nostalgia, heart ache and celebrations. From breakups to losing a child, a parent, a friend, a sibling, I hope this little collection of poems helps someone out there...