Clung.
The tree uprooted,
The vine unravelled,
The petal abandoned,
But the earth,
Still of whole place.
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-
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Play.
Was the shifting of moment,
The chortle of question,
The envy of real.
Since there was no death,
But sleep.
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Music.
Heart not giveth,
Yet taketh.
It's rhythm.
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Exposed.
When no one's watching,
We're shielded with blindness.
For there's nothing more harming,
Than the eyeful gaze.
YOU ARE READING
To Feel
PoetryWords inspired by life events, arranged in such a way, that they often take reign over your heart.
