Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

abuse (Remove filter)

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...

Read and leave comments (15)

abusedelusiondisillusiondreamfreedomgriefhandhooklossPoetryroseyou

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message