there is a black hole
consuming my heart.
my life is falling apart.
i have broken my easel
i do not wanna do anymore art.
— i want whatever colour is left, to become dark.
YOU ARE READING
brown eyes yet grey skies
Poetrywhere the eyes stay awake, yet colour in them is asleep. · part one of woven shreds.
xv
there is a black hole
consuming my heart.
my life is falling apart.
i have broken my easel
i do not wanna do anymore art.
— i want whatever colour is left, to become dark.
