Beneath a crimson sky, hearts pulse like buried stars,
fingers brushing the skin of days lost to time.
Whispers rise—soft as the breath of forgotten roses,
as love spills from souls, unbidden,
a river too wide to cross.
You are the fire; I, the trembling wick.
About the Creator
Taylor Ward
From a small town, I find joy and grace in my trauma and difficulties. My life, shaped by loss and adversity, fuels my creativity. Each piece written over period in my life, one unlike the last. These words sometimes my only emotion.
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