there are words—
so many words—
i wish i would have seeded
words i should have let grow from my lungs, my mind
words that belonged more to me than any i've ever said:
as if all else had been harvested from another's garden
there's an entire undiscovered, ecosystem of life,
hidden somewhere in my ribs
that no one has ever spelunked,
for i built a house atop that scared ground
and let an orchard grow from my lies of omission
أنت تقرأ
a garden of monsters || poetry collection
شِعرall that i create, all that i touch, is poisoned |completed 1/6/19|
