Standing at the edge,
visions -
dancing in and out of time -
of caresses
like pianist's fingers on ivory and onyx
and whispers shattering
like bottles into seaglass
pass away in ashen faces
between wrinkles in perfection.
Dig your fingers into the dirt:
keep balance.
YOU ARE READING
Once, We Lived | Poetry Collection Completed
PoetryA collection of poetry from the high-school years of an semi-angsty teen with too much time on her hands. This is an exploration of the different facets of life and the perceptions of a teen of the 2010s with a knack for words. Warning: contains con...
