Inked Wrist: A Collection of Poems

What if we were all made of fire and blood and thorns

like we pretend to be,

instead of being made from glass.

Inked Wrist

And so he thought;

how lonely an existence it must be.

To have wings and not be able to fly.

but i want to thank you. because it wasn’t until

you came into my life

and left;

that i truly understood what it was like

to be loved.


with the sad eyes

and that nose, and those lips-

must surely be capable of far more than you know


i have this dream… where i’m like, drowning.

but it isn’t salt water that i choke on.

it’s the taste of you.

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