His presence: crisp air.
I gasp to fill my poor lungs;
they still ache for more.
His voice: blazing fire.
I wish to be the timber
ignited beneath.
Eyes: a deep lagoon.
I wish to outstretch and float
atop his warm sea.
His love: the soft earth.
Inviting, doomed, and tragic...
...but I must stay here.
About the Creator
Hannah B
Mom, self proclaimed funny girl, and publicly proclaimed "piece of work".
Lover and writer of fiction and non-fiction alike and hoping you enjoy my attempts at writing either.
A Failed Artist, A Disillusioned Poet, An Underpaid Game Show Host
I took my son and niece to Gori, a small town in Georgia where Joseph Stalin was born. They talked me into visiting the Stalin's Museum, the largest in the post-Soviet space. I had resisted going there because I just can't stand the monster and know enough about him, or so I thought.
By Lana V Lynx6 days ago in FYI
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