Seeing the whisper | Yours to discover

The sorrow that sits in your bones

A thirst that is only quenched by butterfly wings in the winter of our thoughts and born in the tip of a poetry pen, only to be highlighted by the moon’s romance in

the dark of night of soul which scribbles code on the chilly wanderings in the night sky illuminated by a holy ghost gone mad.  While memories of the past soaked in

blood, haunts me with regurgitation of same in cotton ball clouds to feel the

wanderlust disappearing at the edges of infinity only to be recalled asunder in the floods of chicanery and mockery to those who always cast the first stones which

reflects immediately or in their mirror image which have gone wayside with short utterances marinating in forgetfulness by the intoxication of people lying to

Source: Seeing the whisper | Yours to discover

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