Scarcity

Lips graze just barely on My wrist, it is not me nor you Licking the wounds Too deep to heal Hands roam floating on My flesh, it is not me nor you Brushing the goosebumps Too cuspidated to sink Whispers glide into My ears, it is not me nor you Calming the anxious swirls Too … More Scarcity

Again

And so another loss, Another goodbye, Another journal Pouring poems out about How much i miss your eyes. •L•S•