Poems from ardentwriting
People justify the bloodshed
by saying red will make the flowers grow.
But the flowers only grow over the graves
of those whose metallic...
My lips are grasping for that last I love you
wrapped around your breathless voice.
It’s breaking my bones but I’m so desperate not to let...
When I was hardly just
twelve years old,
I watched myself grow up.
It didn’t come with a push of maturity,
but rather a fear
of childlike...