Hyst in Book Title.

  • March 20, 2018, 1:34 a.m.
  • |
  • Public

Type something in this space, ya stupid.

Dread comes as an ivy
Whose curlique tendrils
Are not unlike the curves
Of your coy lips
With thorns fit for a crown
It grows & it chokes
Us quiet

Tongue in granite
Immovable mouth
Shimmering veins form
An immortal silver web
Like a glint of light on ice
In this we are alike
Chasing glaciers
But oh I know
I saw a light

Your heart is a spider
At the nest of your chest
I am, at best, a noisy pest
Attracted to some radiance

Has it come to this


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