Categories
Poetry

Emerald Sweet

I breathe

but I can’t feel you.

I soften but creation does not flow.

Am I stuck?

Or do I just think

I am stuck

because I am not flying

through raw wisps of forestland?

It is my choice to be there,

drifting in the emerald sweet.

Where I am meant to be.

Where I will always be in my mind.

And my heart.

By brookecutler2

Liver of life, lover of everything. đź’•

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