he was the sweetest little thing-

serpentine veins of blue & purple align his inner wrists, longing to trace my fingertips along every swirl hoping it would lead me to his heart. moonbeams slithers through the windowpane casting him in a pale limpid glow (a hologram of his phantom limbs haunt me everytime). his lips touch the scars across my shoulder blades and desire unfurls within me- no one kisses me there. his hands ghost along my body but his soul haunts my mind every time.

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hi! i'm not a poet nor do i consider myself one. however i've always been in love with poetry and decided to share a few of my works. for my works are only windows to my inner self & i would love for you to witness with me what i hold inside. so please enjoy. love you.