I think your soul
Is pure and full
But as you drift through time and silence,
I hope,
It doesn't hurt anymore
In a bed of cradling clouds,
and a blanket of warm stars
You must still feel,
but how do you stomach?
Afterall,
Her face glows beneath his touch
Does it hollow you out,
Turn you even more weightless?
Or do you find comfort in the quiet-
Where memory cloaks you in black
and her, in white?
Feb 3, 2025
Feb 3, 2025 at 6:43 PM UTC
I think your soul
Is pure and full
But as you drift through time and silence,
I hope,
It doesn't hurt anymore
In a bed of cradling clouds,
and a blanket of warm stars
You must still feel,
but how do you stomach?
Afterall,
Her face glows beneath his touch
Does it hollow you out,
Turn you even more weightless?
Or do you find comfort in the quiet-
Where memory cloaks you in black
and her, in white?
Request permission to use this poem