over the sea
you are a tidal wave and she is constantly out of reach.
❝IF I CANNOT WRITE OF MY WOES AND I CANNOT WRITE TO SAVE THE WORLD, THEN WHAT, DARE I ASK, IS THE POINT OF WRITING AT ALL?❞ A collection of thoughts, ramblings, and poems detailing the composite materials of a war-torn mind. Not recommended for those in search of a light-hearted read. © 2016-2018, All Rights Reserved.
you are the words left unsaid on my dry lips the whisper of something i wanted but could not have
careworn and smiling with a crooked grin, adoration slept in the wrinkles beside his eyes as he observed the mosaic beauty. she held his callused palm in hers and whispered to the moon; "tonight, we're monsters." romanticism isn't always beautiful.
A piece of soul in ink, and unto the paper it spilled. A collection of thoughts that rhyme from a wandering mind.
poetry by a person that's afraid of people. 12/23/15- #1 in poetry