This sickness heeds my insecurities.
Senses dehabilitate and scrutinize.
I am sour now, plucked after the rain, seasoned by dismissal.
I will not know the taste of sweetness, only the air will drift and show me kindness.
In this I am listening…waiting for the breeze to muss the stiffness.
Senses dehabilitate and scrutinize.
I am sour now, plucked after the rain, seasoned by dismissal.
I will not know the taste of sweetness, only the air will drift and show me kindness.
In this I am listening…waiting for the breeze to muss the stiffness.
Comments
Post a Comment
Thanks for your comment!