Amazing poetry shared by a talented writer.

Dahlia Dusk Poetry

Poetry isn’t for the habitual hearts— the hearts that function for the sole purpose of pumping blood through their veins, keeping the physical alive. It isn’t for the hearts that beat to the rhythm of an analog clock— wallflowers waiting to be picked from their terrestrial boredom.

Poetry is for the hearts that pound; the hearts that contract for the purpose of feeling the pleasures and pains of passion. A yearning to feel full to the brim, while simultaneously feeling the raging urge to empty themselves of all they have to offer— an intense love that bleeds your eyes dry.

Poetry is for those who carry their words to bed, offering them to the gods of slumber so they may piece them into a beautiful temporary existence, free of fear and onerous aches.

I write in honour of melancholy— the sadness that brings light to the darkness inside of me…

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