Photo by Stephen McFadden on Unsplash
I approve of the loneliest poets
Shying away in their mysterious worlds
I am similar to them,
Yet my mask is blended
Making me the unexpected host of the party.
I'd find it nice if I could have the chance to breathe.
My dreams seem to float just under from my peripheral vision
And so they are not accessible
Just like the dear minds of us poets.
Is the glitter enough to drown your lungs?
Or shall I indulge in more carefully covered fingerprints
Until my mind is smothered too; like my dreams.
About the Creator
Ruby Red
Heya friend, I'm Red!
I write poetry, so subscribe for a hint of vulnerability, some honesty and the occasional glimpse behind my mask 🌱
Taking a break from Vocal; focusing on my anthology 🫶💖
AI is not art.
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