They whisper my name
as if it were an irrevocable prayer. They are restlessly searching for me
as we mold into one another
and our skin is tattered with scripture.
YOU ARE READING
Of Citrus, Honey, and Melancholy ● Poetry ●
Poetry❝Part into me like an orange and make me spill over your fingertips.❞ ------------------------ An original collection of poetry and raw confessions about queer sexuality and pain. Please read at your own discrimination.
IX
They whisper my name
as if it were an irrevocable prayer. They are restlessly searching for me
as we mold into one another
and our skin is tattered with scripture.
