Air rushing in my caverns winds tearing at my insides making me all too aware
Of my emptiness where love should be
Of my cliffs that jut and tear at
The ragged rawness inside of me
I am empty where I should be full and full of only the wrong things
Tag: love
the Cowardly Lioness, Poetry by Ruth Bowley
To seek the words I cannot allow myself to say.
To relinquish into your soul…
the gifts I cannot give.
These, these, are just simple plots.
Veiled hand me downs,
and all too familiar way to live.
WILDsound Festival 