And the moon bleeds in smoky grey light
a concert for the senses
pushing it out into the audience of night
as lighters flicker as stars.
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look at my blood flowers, because I write with a serene sharp blade that soothes. as much as cuts into the deepest parts of my soul
Me
- Basit
- Son, Mallu, Expeditionist, Whimsical Blogger, Pseudo Poet, Haiku thirst, Literaly anti-literal, Foodie, Coffee & PinkFloyd addict. floating bewilderedly through space-time continuum !
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wrapping my whispers around your silence.
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Twisted tears // run jaggedly // down my face // crooking their way // into my heart//
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