Precarious

Precarious

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jan 11, 2016
"Don't tell me to write you poems. I will pencil you in as beautiful. Dress you in eloquent enunciation and colour your soul in as iridescent. I will draw white feathered wings on your back, contrasting the dark craters inside your barren soul. Gradually my words will turn around. You will catch it slowly. A soft breeze sweeping you away into the sea right before you drown."
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Might

here lie the poems, written with all my might- be weary of valiant emotion

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