Sitting in a field made of stars
I watch you as my pupils burn a hazy dark
Smear my hands with shades of blue, your
Lovely opioid opalescence
Your crystal laugh slips through sapphire stained fingertips
I craft a crown of stone and beg to rest it on your brow, but you
Hand me a scripted saccharine smile and twirl just out of reach
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Author:
wren (
Offline) - Published: August 2nd, 2022 01:29
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments1
so poetic, a magical read
thanks for sharing, dear poet
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