I miss the ghost of your bruised lips against my ear,whispering the sweetest daydreams.The life in your interchanging features made you the perfect fit for someone ….
Category: Poetry
No matter where I was, the sun couldn’t always shine on my face. Sometimes the glass buildings would reflect it back to me, sometimes would ….
It’s like I’m trying to shoot down the air, part the clouds with a knife, nothing to dig my nails into but my own palms. ….
She kept holding on to the ropefor as long as she can remember,blisters on her palmsruptured.Her hands unrecognisablelike a volcanic field. She wanted to release ….
I put my hand under a running tap; with steam filling the room, I can feel the ice breaking in my palms and the warmth ….