Clumsy.
I am clumsy.
I am bad at this in all sorts of ways.
Fading scars on alive colored skin
impossible to compare to the scars
healing on your golden heart.
But I wish to know your scars,
and I wish to know your heart.
I hope you will make me more graceful.
I am bad at this in all sorts of ways.
Fading scars on alive colored skin
impossible to compare to the scars
healing on your golden heart.
But I wish to know your scars,
and I wish to know your heart.
I hope you will make me more graceful.
♠ ♠ ♠
I wrote this poem at about 2am, and it is saved on the notes on my phone. It breaks my heart to read. It wrote it in the summer and I'm watching the snow melt as it stays relevant.