We would never become a set of wings,
if we do not tear from...
Do not save regrets.
Don’t rescue blames...
I am regretting
My composure, might have fooled...
I feel myself slipping,
floating off to an unnamed...
What do you do with the empty space
When your memory starts to forget their face...
You grip my finger in your tiny hand
and you look at me as if I have all the answers...
There will be no one
There when I die...
Dreams are not tangible
yet I grip my pen to recount...
When we're rushed for time
With the working weak ahead...
The fear right
below your skin, festers...
Bleeding sonnets written in
Latin, a narwhal breaking...
Anxiety runs through my veins
My life seems so far away...