art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
To the heart, who got what it wanted:
Hey you, If you are asking; yes, it still hurts. Every goodbye, every ending. You still feel it deeply. But don’t worry, you have perfected that introduction you were working on and were so nervous about. Let the anxious one in you be reassured, you hold yourself better now.
By Mingling with the Moon about a year ago in Poets
I want to be so many things
Once bright orange, nasturtiums will wlit and then turn golden, but we won’t notice. Bold crimson hibiscus hues will leak and fold inwards, resiliently reddening before turning pink or brown, but we won't notice. The bougainvillea will deadhead themselves before the wind comes to get them, while the rose petals dance on their way out and the jacarandas cremate themselves where we walk; and we will likely - still - not notice.
By Mingling with the Moon about a year ago in Poets
