Untitled (Original Poetry)

sanguine adoration buried deep

within the nooks of your brokenness,

the scalding head trying to bubble

from dark crevices,

“are you there?” a voice asks in a monotone,

forgetting to overlook your stillness,

and you breathe all wrong

because he knows now you are defective;

how do you piece yourself together

when you’re ready to fall apart?



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