maybe we are
blessed with
fire-knit hands
so they may
feel warmth
in the dead
of summer.
maybe we are
the excess.
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little blue flowers
الشعرA collection of original poetry by Ella Petrichor. Highest Rank: #152 in Poetry (6/14/18) **COMPLETED** ::Excerpt:: "betrayal along the seams" A melancholic pallor lining her face She stood in the doorway Beating the shit out of that old rug As thou...
everytime i feel the sun
maybe we are
blessed with
fire-knit hands
so they may
feel warmth
in the dead
of summer.
maybe we are
the excess.
