Jun 30
my chest
doesn't scream --
it hums
with a stabbing pain
too polite
to interupt.
my soul
it still reaches
for hands
that no longer
reach back
to me.
doesn't scream --
it hums
with a stabbing pain
too polite
to interupt.
my soul
it still reaches
for hands
that no longer
reach back
to me.
a small insight on the upcoming poems im saving.. there's six at the moment.
date wrote: 30/6
date wrote: 30/6
