Your grief doesn’t hold limits,
it overflows from a dried off casanova of infinity,
It drapes you in sweat, wets your shirt in fear,
slips you in trauma of your guilt,
like memoirs of past lovers hands
slipping under T-shirt, now thrown.
Your limits broke off that autumn
when you laid your bare feet on dry, yellow grass,
Advertisement
Multipurpose Height-adjustable Laptop Table
When you rivered down your sadness
on pale dry autumn dust.
And now no limits hold you
when you jump down your cliff,
there are no limits to which you won’t fall.
Advertisement
Comments