i used to die repeatedly.
breathing and relief are left unknown
under this earth,
my soul's unrest and prisoned
until i have seen the light
i almost got my eyes burned.
adjusted to what my eyes reached.
i felt warmth around me.
it is not from the sun nor wind.
it is from a place where love transpired.
where i have the most
when everything is less
it is internal, not superficial.
YOU ARE READING
ninth avenue - poetry
Poetry__ heavenly bodies only know where you are now. maybe i was not holding on too tight as you slipped away. wasn't i still yours? __
