Poems from saderholdt1

  Her mind was not broken when she was born. She was once a rose But, have you ever seen such aversion to a flower?   What’s in a name?...
  My hands bleed from slivers of glass The pieces stick me as I try to pick them up It is a habit I have, to try and put the pieces...
  The child of my heart Isn’t like the others. She is reckless and naïve, She can hardly be trusted.   The child of my mind Stands up...
  If one walks with me through a garden of prose Lonely am I still, If my heart is gone than my words are vacant, And my lines are cold...
  It tasted sweet like honeysuckle, But like blood, settled heavy in the glass. The first sip tore her throat to shreds- The second was...

Pages