I was a dead body, decaying in decades of wreckage, buried in my tarnished land. Shape shifting into a muse that acquires its sunday best to stand tall, relentlessly.
And yet life is much wiser than to all of my whims, molding my heart as a vessel of my misadventures, and veins that bears my broken dreams. I still dance on a hard wood floor, memorizing the creaks on it; memorizing the fear of falling.
My skin and bone grows in unfamiliar love, shaped into a misery, it is morphed on my own garden of heaven and abyss, relinquished its life in romanticism and death.
Mar 14, 2024
Mar 14, 2024 at 11:42 AM UTC
I was a dead body, decaying in decades of wreckage, buried in my tarnished land. Shape shifting into a muse that acquires its sunday best to stand tall, relentlessly.
And yet life is much wiser than to all of my whims, molding my heart as a vessel of my misadventures, and veins that bears my broken dreams. I still dance on a hard wood floor, memorizing the creaks on it; memorizing the fear of falling.
My skin and bone grows in unfamiliar love, shaped into a misery, it is morphed on my own garden of heaven and abyss, relinquished its life in romanticism and death.
