my capacity to love
is not my weakness
i believe it is yours.
...
my heart is so pliable in your hands.
...
i truly am mourning over the loss of a life,
one envisioned with you,
and widowed with it,
my now bleak and bitter reality.
...
it should be criminal,
simply recordings of your voice
turn me into an abuser of self.
somebody report it.
somebody intervene.
i am an arsonist that sets
the progress of moving on
ablaze.
YOU ARE READING
ruby
Poetrypoems about the next stage of my life, hopefully about new experiences but also about hanging onto something the heart has desperately longed for and isn't quite ready to give up
