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| alcholicpoet.com |
dragonflies and caterpillars tell their tales.
delicate wings scrape the wind. shattered cocoons tease the sun.loose skin falls away as we move to touch.
the bones underneath more broken than we expected.
words turn to clay. much too soft to hold.
we play gravity's infectious games.
flying and falling again and again.
never knowing if we've won.
our voices fade to whispers. our bodies become ghosts.
life is an icicle. time is an oven.
Filed under: December 2024 Sad Poetry
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