Okay, so I post other people's poetry because, well, it's beautiful and wholesome. This is the first time I am posting my own. I'm putting it out there and so...uhm.....yeah....
it seems I speak better in poetry and
understand the comfort of impossibility through it.
For those who have been loved to, in a certain way,
and decided to give all your love anyway.
To the dolls and the whores,
the housewives and the mistress,
the ones who cared impossibly hard
with no shadow of reciprocity,
But mostly to those who get on with
the disaster of the aftermath,
Feel newer each day.
Images that move me
by Langdon Graves