all sins are an attempt to fill voids,
a thin string where torment and vulnerability coil
they're an escape,
a means to mend and reshape
an ache for something futile,
insurmountable longing forged by something cruel
because a burnt child loves fire
and since they're acclimated,
they play open hearted
with the blazing untamed desire
YOU ARE READING
Throes of Spring ✔️
Poetry[FEATURED] godhood is just like girlhood: a begging to be believed