Fluttery eyes,
sinking in the unknown yet familiar authority.
Chest heaving,
uncertainly yet gently inhaling and exhaling
nameless but calming odor.
Tired soul,
bundled by tender mood,
healing, and nurturing.
Past Midnight
It is when everything becoming blurry,
Becoming murky.
Time and consciousness
Start making nonsense.
Past Midnight
It is when everything
Doesn't matter anymore.
It is moment when
It's just the universe, my soul, and I
-
Author:
Achanta (
Offline) - Published: January 18th, 2019 14:58
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments1
Excellent write.
Thank you 🙂
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.