Photo by Adam Jang on Unsplash

An original poem.

What did it mean to touch?
All I got was the need for a crutch.
It wasn’t enough.
My body is broken.
Bruises are blossoming,
My heart is a gossamer.

Don’t want to trash in the biting wind,
I want to find peace.
To let myself breathe and be.
I cast my anchor by the shore,
Mend the sails that we tore.

My tongue coated in dust,
Trading lust for clear skies and sparkling eyes
I was on the frontlines of thrills.
Now I’m caressing the treelines and frills
I’m no longer hopeless,
No longer sinking down
my own bottomless oceans.

Writer. Hobby novelist. Sociable introvert. Bulgarian living in Sweden. Articles on writing, productivity, mental health, life.

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