the questions i ask myself
in the midst of chaos, i cannot bare,
they wrap around my throat and
dig until i'm numb.
blood drips, drips, drips
down my spine
until i'm bleeding questions.
and i ask myself,
"what have you done, celeste?"
YOU ARE READING
stars • poetry
Poetry{stars} "she was carried to land from the stars up above where heavenly angels learn about love and although she was grateful her wings began growing a dark faded color that was in its last brewing she had turned on the good and made peace with the...
