“Her beauty isn't measured by some European standard of what beauty should be but by her confidence and the fact that she is loving the skin she's in. To me, that alone is beautiful.”
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hearts
as cold as sleet
beating frigidly
within a desolated cavity
a wasteland of remembrance
teetering on madness
echoes thoughts of insanity
where words
vitriolic at best
cuts deep
beneath the soul
a place
where beauty once lived
lay ugly and abandoned...
and as winter creeps
through cracks long forgotten
love
lies trampled in the madness
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Comments (3)
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Join free Log inCharles2
your wordplay magical, tragic... dark ...inimical
Read Charles2's poems2b2b2
Tight Play....feels like current events to me....ONE
Read 2b2b2's poemsodonko-ba
exactly my friend
Read odonko-ba's poems