i gather a pile of loose strings knotting.
her drawn to the dark,
you drawn to the light,
a woven fabric unraveled.

is your will let down,
watching at the candle-lit window,
every drop of rain striking?

this barren room,
love’s cold ammunition.

our bodies lie still.

8 thoughts on “Untitled

    1. Love’s complication. Do we merely survive? A feat to conquer all feat if we are able to mend a defeat. When do we fight and when to retreat? Succumb to heart’s weight? Great question. πŸ’”β€οΈ

      Liked by 1 person

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