Love Poetry Collections (SEASON 2)

36

Poise—On

Narrow neck, was holding a friend's throat, a narrow life.

Narrow wreck and an arrow check when life pecks.

A whiskey filled with untold whistling weathering wishes.

It was fermented for long, kong years, for about ten years.

It was kept and hidden...

Dark and obscure, mystic and so real vague.

It is a bottle of several battles and so buts. Like some potions, whoose blood is empty. Like a corossion of people's emptiness.

Worn-out and exhaust, thrown out and such life's toss.

As I carry the body, as I hold someone's spirit. 'Til it was lost, balancing the tight oldness I once lost.

'Til it became untrue, but as ages comes and passed by, everything will still be proportional and rigid.

Hard hearts perhaps soft containers including stored dreams and nopes to be. Stone hearts, stone glass. All is stone, yet the poise is on.

It was fair fanstastic freaked of tricks...

When life smokes toxicness and you spells too. Holding another cup, held one's perception.

🖤: ♡♡~~say says,
@jas