soul place

I refuse... I refuse to believe that emptiness is normal, that less or loss is a given, and not quite is a way of living.  This unnatural way of being disrupts my soul.   This isn't home. 

I struggle to recall how tangible breathing is meant to be, how time is a beautiful thing when writing on another's skin with just your fingers.  Tips brushed in gold.  Lips touched by gold.  Awash in sunset's glow.  Of one light.  This home I know. 

Reviews

[Babe Roxx]

Gosh, Poetry. It just drips from the page. Lovely work.

[SilentDream]

I appreciate your thoughts. Always. 😊

[Babe Roxx]

You are very welcome. :)