Jan 2014
I ache with Alone
we are hand in hand
empty to the bones
the lines I can't leave
on the surface of my
Maybe skin.
Sorrow is the hood
with which I cloak my ears
All I do now is
wait for the Rain.
we are hand in hand
empty to the bones
the lines I can't leave
on the surface of my
Maybe skin.
Sorrow is the hood
with which I cloak my ears
All I do now is
wait for the Rain.
copyight fhw, 2014
AN: this poem is a few months old- I found it in the depths of my hard drive and poked it a bit. today feels like the right time to share it with all of you.
AN: this poem is a few months old- I found it in the depths of my hard drive and poked it a bit. today feels like the right time to share it with all of you.
