lyra
it's july again and the city opens like a wound heat like a fever, the clock like an ache not enough, then too much all at once. still, I find small tasks to worship the delicate act of keeping my hands so busy they forget the need to be held.
sahana
Such a beautiful poem ❤️❤️
dadapoet
This is art!
a_p_wyndham
Honestly, my eyes watered up a bit with this one. The language is simple, but the emotional charge is intense. I think that duality is part of what hit me; the other part being my own projection. Indeed, sometimes all I can do is keep my hands busy. This is the first poem I've actually "bookmarked" on here. Absolutely wonderful piece.
lifeinslomo
July is keeping me angry and frustrated here. It's the heat playing its tricks on me. I love the delicate admission of the final lines.
sidusferam
Ah love it ❤️❤️ Missed your poems🥺
