poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
my body hangs off my skeleton,like a hanger,limp,my eyes a little drooped,with no colour inside them, glazed,Spirit not present, trying to find a home elsewhere,love seems to have opened up a portal of grief,intertwined with roses in place of my heart,a black hole suddenly appears,and I am thrown in, Other days I am a fountain […]