Recumbent veins trace
The migration of ink
Over snow-laden planes
Gelid fingers falter
Unable to ignite
The hearth within
*
Lately I haven’t felt like writing poetry. I know what is this blasphemy!? Truth is even I have days where all I really want to do is watch bad television and eat cookies. Maybe because I am sick but I just can’t seem to find my mojo at the moment.
mindlovemisery 