Saturday, October 29, 2016

Twiddling my thumbs



Submerged, waiting on a sailor...
can only hold my breath for so long.
The blue is going stale,
my heart is growing numb.

I'm sorry and I'm sorry once again
but like I said, he's just a friend

Flickers of hope
die out on the knoll
Whimpers aren't suitable for
an electric soul.

Blog Archive

swells of change

Perched at the crow's nest I welcome the brewing gale ideal conditions for a feminine travail