Poetry Blogs (2020, disillusion)
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The Cost Of Your Hand
I awake on a bed of roses,
Whose petals crunch like orphaned autumn leaves.
A ray of sunlight towards me approaches,
Dancing in the light are muddy speckles aplenty.
I can feel the air around me toy with my locks,
Which is as feeble as your grasp on my hand.
But I hold on
To you, this very second, this very moment.
The mere sight of you sugarcoats my disill...
Thursday 9th July 2020 7:07 pm
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