can you taste the depression
salted into every word
overwhelming like too much vanilla
i've tried to put it down
to write these poems without it
but i share with it my every moment
from sunrise to the middle of the night—
staring at my phone screen,
swearing off sleep—
and so i leave it lingering in all my wayward stories
like a fingerprint in old blood
a mark that i—
we—
have been here
and that everything i say
i do not say alone
YOU ARE READING
collections of constellations and the stars || poetry collection
Poetrypoems often written at midnight, each telling its own story. an anthology of sorts. grammatically incorrect use of lowercase is an aesthetic choice and intentional. |incomplete|
