UNDER THE SKIN
//
i am not the bright pretty thing
you desire. what you mistake for
light is residue from a former life,
what you mistake for life
is just an illusion.
once, maybe, i was
the loving little girl,
but now i am just a phantom
wrapped in blood, wrapped in skin -
a ghost stuck wandering the world,
emitting echoes of past love
but feeling nothing within.
ESTÁ A LER
Ghosts Lost & Winter Found
Poesiawhen you steal all that's evil and bury it underground: these are our ghosts lost and this is our winter found. collected poems from 2017 [ © 2017 by shaye ]
