Beach ball
  • GELESEN 76
  • Stimmen 1
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  • GELESEN 76
  • Stimmen 1
  • Teile 1
  • Zeit <5 mins
Laufend, Zuerst veröffentlicht Mai 18, 2021
This poem is about a withering  beach ball and how the object feels.
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MELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. SOON TO BE A PUBLISHED PAPERBACK. COMING 2025! This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly, you begin to forget I even exist. All of me, the hard parts of flesh you could never seem to love, drips down the drain. I am waiting for the day for your fingers to unscrew the pipes, dig through debris and mess, scrape your heart against the rust, just to find me, so we can go through it all over again. Here, in the pages I find myself, in the ink that writes against my flesh, I will whisper the sadness, the heartache, and the decaying for all of the unspoken. Perhaps under this layer of melancholy, the girl I once knew still exists.    First poetry collection in the series. Original poems based off real life experiences. #12 in poetry. Cover template made by @KaleidoGraphix on Canva. 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 copyright © May Garner. 2017. All Rights Reserved.