//mypoeticside.com/

anonymousblue

Weed And Dust

I\'d love to live without surviving,

without sucking emptiness

through tired, barren roots.

Upon the lips burns the dream

of being a flower in the wind,

of carrying the soft weight

of the unfastened skies

upon my silken skin;

thirst is harsh, though,

and I\'m weed among stones,

dust is my nourishment.