I can't imagine
Why the poems are hiding
But you taste of death.
Oliver Finch
@olifinch182
thinker of tender thoughts
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havana brown
went to a new coffee house today in a new city, soon to be home. observations circa 4pm as the sun came through the tapestries and tinted glass.
the ballad of falling.
and the feeling has yet to leave. quite frankly, I hope it never does.
on a thunderstorm in august.
god help the little ones, the silent ones, the mental. the strangers.
the sun set fiction in our heartbeats.
before the tide and moon pulled the motion from the ocean and placed it in your perfect fingertips, keeping time with love itself.
i'll never write you.
elegantly put, my heart beats too fast around you to speak clear.