It felt like hot lava spitting, hissing and bubbling under the earth, in some wretched cavern. The heat, threatening to burst molten anger through the eyes. The bloated, puffiness.
Like the soul leaking out, sliver by sliver, in little streams, leaving a shallow blankness in the eyes. Dreams spilling out, one by one. Pl-ip. Plop. Plop...and they had escaped the mind, staining the cheeks, feeling the ever rising heat!
~ Rosetta 🥀
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Picture Poetry
PoetrySometimes life isn't just words. It's colour, texture, sounds, smells and sights. Living life means being open to each of these elements, and if you are, then the poetry is constantly in motion. Whenever I travel, or see something that motivates me...
