image from stockadobe.com
December exhales, cold, unfinished~ dragging its shadows like a half-empty suitcase filled with heavy promises. I stand knee-deep in what I didn’t say~ the clock’s hands trembling with the weight of all I meant to become.
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.