Poetry circles my brain


Pecking at my humanity

And demanding satisfaction

The words soak up my tears


They gush with all the

Fervor of dust

Perhaps there is nothing left

Like a dried fruit

Left un-touched

Un-picked in anticipation

Of the perfect moment

Hands came and hands went

Tongues watered

For an inevitable slice

That never came

The husk shields herself

With failed intentions

Published by alexiima

Life's a party in a sunflower field. Even when we wilt, we are beautiful to behold.

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