My skin prickles against the wind
like a fire dancing in a storm
but just as the flames
make way for the rain
the smoke shields a desolate heart.
Your silhouette pressed against
cascading drops;
How refreshing is your soul
enchanted by pain and regret?
How have these scars made you?
How has this storm saved you?
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
My skin prickles against the wind
like a fire dancing in a storm
but just as the flames
make way for the rain
the smoke shields a desolate heart.
Your silhouette pressed against
cascading drops;
How refreshing is your soul
enchanted by pain and regret?
How have these scars made you?
How has this storm saved you?
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