The softness will come slowly
Some days you will have no choice
But to feel it
Breaking like a thunderhead
After all day building in the humidity
You will know it as love
And some days it will seep
Into your lungs like carbon monoxide
You forget about the danger
And it corrodes you
Those days are the hardest
Because there is no warning
The softness will come back
One way or another you will let your walls down
Because you were not built to be
A fortress
In storm or silence, you will know gentleness
You will know softness and care
For better or worse, you will open your heart
Storm or silence?
That's the question, isn't it
YOU ARE READING
Inkblood Poetry
PoetryPoetry is the most efficient way for me to express things, even when I can't define it in a way that makes sense. And I think that's the beautiful thing about it - that poetry doesn't even need to be defined. It just exists.
