Dark rooms and lit up faces,
unsaid words choking unused throats,
tears that never prove defeat,
heads that never bow with love,
skin that forever folds with regret.
Don't you know darling? Sinners never apologize
"But this is our home!" They scream.
YOU ARE READING
A Change Of Heart
PoetryHealing isn't the easiest thing for me to do. I've tried to find it in between pages and rib cages. In loud rooms and the quiet of racing heartbeats. In poetry and rage. In that space between childhood and growing pains. In apologies that I refuse t...
