scribbled words with a scent of dried leaves—
it must have been buried deep
with the intention of not letting anyone find it
here lies the letter for the angels above
whom i've never met
and never got the slightest glimpse of their orbs
i yearn for comfort and safety
which i have never felt in the first place
i yearn for an embrace that will melt me
which i never got, and the wind embraced me instead
i spoke through murmurs
and i kneel in front of the light of the moon;
how i yearn to meet my parents
and all the what-ifs running through my mind
this dilemma i sunk into—
i do not have the slightest idea
how to climb up
i hope someone can lend their hand
and help me get back on my feet
with my lips heaving a sigh of relief
Apr 21, 2023
Apr 21, 2023 at 5:11 AM UTC
scribbled words with a scent of dried leaves—
it must have been buried deep
with the intention of not letting anyone find it
here lies the letter for the angels above
whom i've never met
and never got the slightest glimpse of their orbs
i yearn for comfort and safety
which i have never felt in the first place
i yearn for an embrace that will melt me
which i never got, and the wind embraced me instead
i spoke through murmurs
and i kneel in front of the light of the moon;
how i yearn to meet my parents
and all the what-ifs running through my mind
this dilemma i sunk into—
i do not have the slightest idea
how to climb up
i hope someone can lend their hand
and help me get back on my feet
with my lips heaving a sigh of relief
Request permission to use this poem