Thursday, 29 December 2016

so I guess you were there

in the shadows of bold thoughts
and scarred windows. under that
disrespected willow tree my mum
hurries underneath my wool cloak;
shadows of my her.
so i breath abruptly and dillute your
winter with a fresh broken cloud and
hurried neptune green.
i want a slow branched story 
tucked underneath 
my rustic wings so that i may
fly as soon as i close the last 
page of my disaster.



 

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...