Wednesday, 2 March 2016

astronaut

for what i would do to have my
blank canvas bones painted
skin once again; freedom of
these metal inked chains
greened with despair and
withering pain. i separated me
from you so long ago and
i am sorry... im so sorry that
i never needed you before i said
i am sorry. 
because once i have declared you
i have already missed believing 
me; i am an astronaut bleeding 
downwards. 


this will be my last poem

so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...