XXX.
the sound of raindrops hitting leaves lulls me to sleep.
i collapse on the forest floor and the fog engulfs me.
when i awake there are flowers growing from my cracks
and dust in the air.B
YOU ARE READING
fifteen (XV)
Poetryi prick my finger on a rose in my garden. my blood is not red. i take the wind caressing my face as a silent apology. cover art made by doradorapuff on tumblr. [2015] thank you to everyone who shared with me these short poems as they were published...
XXX.
XXX.
the sound of raindrops hitting leaves lulls me to sleep.
i collapse on the forest floor and the fog engulfs me.
when i awake there are flowers growing from my cracks
and dust in the air.B