TWO
taste the rust at my fingertips
Do you see me?
The raw insides of me.
My skin speaks all weathered times
of the seasons coming.
Sometimes, I am the desert.
Everything is peaceful in the sand.
The land is dried beauty for some time.
Other times, I am the ocean,
lips cold from the rust.
The water has reached the surface.
All my flesh can see is crimson.
Oh, and there are many times where I am both.
A soul sunbaked and lapping at the overflow.
My body is branching, the wild of my heart is growing.
I am beauty, fully, whether I take the time
to water my roots or not.
What's your favorite movie / show currently?
𐎀 My favorites change every three to five business days, but currently, my favorite movies are Misery, House of Wax, Freddy vs Jason, Dawn of the Dead, & The Hills Have Eyes! As you can see, I'm a big horror fan, lol.
May
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𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 ➙ 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺
PoetryMELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. Here, I will speak the sadness, the heartache, and the decaying for all the unspoken. Perhaps under this layer of melancholy, the girl I once knew still exists. First poetry collection i...
