May 20
Perhaps she was reaching for the stars,
Fingers beginning to curl out,
To try to grasp at them.
Her eyes were certainly directed at them,
Her chin tilted towards the moon.
But the hooded nature of those eyes,
As they seemed to roll backwards into her skull.
Mouth agape, suffocating with frozen lungs for eternity.
Perhaps her fingers where curling towards herself.
Gesturing something towards her open mouth.
Gluttony consuming her as much as she consumed it.
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Poetry For The Lost People
Poetry365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
