art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
The Rotting Gate of October
October is a town that forgets it’s supposed to be dying. You enter through the rotting place between two trees fused together, a seam in the forest where the bark has grown wrong, as if something once pressed its face against both trunks and whispered them into merging. The opening appears only when the air tilts warm over cold, like breath on a mirror that remembers you.
By Syl De'Vil26 days ago in Poets
