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Poetry

A collection of poems, cover by: @itsmarrosee || I am the fray at the end of the yarn, cut from the new blanket, before it becomes a gift.

Hallway

148 9 0

by heyalihey

by heyalihey

Fickle and dripping,

the claws of the Dark

at the end of the hallway

have found me, sure and

reassured, I have lost

my balance, fallen

into air thick and braiding.

There is no cure, I've heard.

At the end of the hallway

there is supposed to be light.

I cannot, willnot, trust the darkness

when the darkness

is what made me fall.

Blame my halt, if you must.