Photo by Sara Cervera on Unsplash
Skin
soft, delicate,
paper thin velvet burned by the sun.
Flesh
gold, honey ribboned,
nectar dripping from every small cut
Plucked
from my emerald sanctuary,
his fangs cracked as he bit into me
Poor featherless biped...
Though I bruise easily,
the core of me is stone.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
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