I write words on flesh that
When no one is watching
Turn to poetry
A story told on every inch of skin
A myriad of scars
that speak in voices all their own
Some feather-light strokes a whisper
And others heavy ink screams.
Living Poetry
I write words on flesh that
When no one is watching
Turn to poetry
A story told on every inch of skin
A myriad of scars
that speak in voices all their own
Some feather-light strokes a whisper
And others heavy ink screams.
An introvert who finds solace in nature, literature, and poetry. I've been through the works, so please mind tags for possible triggers. Stay safe, programs <3 View all posts by Stáchtes tou Parelthóntos
the Honest Poet