Closer to Heaven, the whiteness of a glorious afterlife. I burn with a fever, face in a frame. Wandering ghost, made of glass. Made to shatter in light. Warm to the sensitive touch of surrender, falling into strange dreams of stranger realities. Stars becoming dust. I believe in the magic of a red velvet kiss, a sin I'm willing to risk. I want to see the sun again.
-
Author:
Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 1st, 2021 18:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments1
Beautiful
thank you X
♥♥♥
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.