The only thing keeping you here
the search for somewhere else, somewhere else where your head resonates a sound you never heard, a feeling that means everything to you
somewhere maybe
your coloboma irises may shine back
forests where you may finally be
calloused hands
from climbing trees
and a golden ring of nothing
but citrine
still the days grow steadily colder
your head begins grows disgustingly sober
you'll hear it, you'll feel it again, the residual hum of that chord in your veins
calling you back home to a safe place
wherever that may be now
YOU ARE READING
Poesía Verde
PoetryFair warning, much of my poetry may feature dark themes. critique/criticism welcome and encouraged. Thank you.
