You hold the messenger of death hostage,
close to your chest, against your pale skin.
When there is a knock at the door,
you’ve the leverage to stop him coming in.
writing as a way of life
My ramblings poems and musings enjoy or not no pressure
The varied thoughts of a millennial modern linguist.
Talking about real things
Poetry and Poems
All that is me!
She turns coffee into books so she can afford to buy more coffee. And more books.
Fabulously Refined/Wildy Inappropriate
Author: The Eternals Series
I Kill My Own Spiders
Just A Little Orchid, Blooming Away
A poetic experiment