L. V., i’m trying to make sense i swear i’m trying to make sense
L. V., i found this poem stuck between wakefulness & dreams
your page is like going to a museum; each post like a painting. Specifically the ones you weave your poems with classical paintings. i can go over the details for a long while. it feels like taking a magnifying glass to a miniature work of art to fully appreciate the little touches; and when i step back, i see the whole painting -- the bigger picture. thank you for the experience.
This is far too lovely. Thank you, dear stranger. You made my heart feel a little less heavy today.
L. V., i found this poem in the closing credits of your favourite film
L. V., i found this poem on the ground, sobbing
L. V., i found this poem when we were no longer lonely
L. V., i found this poem on my last day as a child
L. V., i found this poem when i wanted to be so awfully happy that i never need to write poetry again
L. V., i found this poem wandering around a ghost town
L. V., i found this poem left forgotten by a tourist who was in a hurry to get out of our hometown
L. V., i found this poem dripping down my forearm after taking a bite of a freshly-plucked summer fruit
Poetry. Prose. Free Verse. May explore dark/sensitive themes.
210 posts