I struggle to find my soul a home. One where beds are made of feathers and skies so full of shine. Warmth is what it yurns for. Connection for which to intertwine. Alas, your soul flew by and with it took mine. My soul has found a home, I only wish you would've known. You've taken it with you so unaware that it's almost beautiful. So effortless so pure. It is home.
-
Author:
Niki Oz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 15th, 2022 11:07
- Category:
- Views: 15
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.