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August
Poems
May 2014
Smoking Poetry
I miss you when nights are cold,
While the fire is breathing on my face,
And I can't stand to feel the trace
Of your skin on mine.
I feel so old.
To remove your fingertips,
Bury myself in the glowing embers,
Scorch any trace of you off
My blackened burns.
*I only wish.
Amara Pendergraft 2014
I've been trying so hard to be good again.
Written by
August
27/Trans Male/The Secret Garden
(27/Trans Male/The Secret Garden)
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