If I bleed,
I bleed ink.
When I write,
I cut my finder,
no need for a pen.
The ink writes words
on the inside of my veins,
filling me up 'till I'm bursting
at the seams, scripting my fate
before I know what the future holds.
YOU ARE READING
Bitter Bliss: A Poetry Collection
PoetryMy fourth poetry collection, raw and original. My deepest fears, most insecure thoughts, and cruelest wishes. 🖤🖤Trigger warning: everything🖤🖤
