there are places inside me where your hands alone
have reached and touched and no matter how rugged
they were at first they softened the wounds
previously inflicted, there are portals to hell
in my soul in which i spend, so when i'm down there
places of which are found in everyone, i suppose i am
no queen of ancient cantrips, this is no backwards forwards
filling this void is impossible without your hands
so please pull me out, i always request
and
time and time again,
no surprises
you always do
YOU ARE READING
"happy" poetry
Poetryinstead of the full challenge since i am lazy i give you these crappy poems, sarah
