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angel-zunguPoems
I wish I spoke for the consumption of ten seconds, so you'd give me your attention, for one second, and I’d feel some form of validation, in hopes that you’d return to me for one more moment, for I hate the unreturning. I’m like the rising of the sun, I want to linger like cigars on mustaches, lounges and lips and spread myself softly in rogue-crimson, peachy-oranges – Van Gogh-yellows and be deep and mellow. This makes me boring and come off a little shallow, because I’m too open. I’m Kimberly, I yearn for the digging. It’s my destruction, like an open pit, I burn diamonds. I want to see the bottom, and hear the end of a story. I want to see things I’m not meant to know and own with human eyes. I want the thoughts. I want the ground. I want food that fills me up, for longer than a few cravings, than a bitter fool and a few seconds.
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Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 12:52 PM UTC
Van Gogh-Yellows
I wish I spoke for the consumption of ten seconds, so you'd give me your attention, for one second, and I’d feel some form of validation, in hopes that you’d return to me for one more moment, for I hate the unreturning. I’m like the rising of the sun, I want to linger like cigars on mustaches, lounges and lips and spread myself softly in rogue-crimson, peachy-oranges – Van Gogh-yellows and be deep and mellow. This makes me boring and come off a little shallow, because I’m too open. I’m Kimberly, I yearn for the digging. It’s my destruction, like an open pit, I burn diamonds. I want to see the bottom, and hear the end of a story. I want to see things I’m not meant to know and own with human eyes. I want the thoughts. I want the ground. I want food that fills me up, for longer than a few cravings, than a bitter fool and a few seconds.
Written by
angel-zungu
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 12:52 PM UTC
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