#3 healing poetry; the magic of us

You wait in the blue-pen, red-pen scribbled margins of wasted breath,aching backs and crinkled necks.You wonder if they can see you yet. You keep your soul locked up tight,waiting for the luminous night,to let you know it’s alright. You always felt safer, there. You need to know it’s alright,To walk where they haven’t, to sayContinue reading “#3 healing poetry; the magic of us”