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I hope that the taste of your name never feels like a by-gone memory on my tongue
that the zephyr will always carry the lingering epistles of your touch
I hope that your memory never becomes a mere water-spilled smudge
a distantly known face that I'll be too scared to assemble from the crumbs
I hope that this adornment that consumes me ever so wholly;
never becomes a darkened lane that I'll become anxious to traverse
━ I hope.
ESTÀS LLEGINT
Throes of Spring ✔️
Poesia[FEATURED] godhood is just like girlhood: a begging to be believed
