softer kind of tea
flower beds roll over tongue
winter is my home
addicted to skin
asexual in spirit
i love you so much
weight of my own thoughts
all i feel is everything
self-sabotage, art.
monday night frame-shift
there are no main characters
exist, painfully:
YOU ARE READING
soft light
Poetryi just want to feel okay again. poems written circa 2017-2020. what a wacky time to exist. if a lot of these seem unhinged it's probably because most of them were written while i was in a very abusive relationship. tw for occasional themes of addict...
