myshkin
౨ৎ
“China-faced, blue killing,
The desert condensed,
Heart as heat, still beating.
Favour, as in favours,
lulled quiet by a storm,
thunderous in her crying,
silent with her love.
Night has neared,
baked moon tilting,
a lavender past creeps on twos,
never there, always missing.
Iseult has peaked,
White mounds and carmine crests,
Her vice is a livid thing,
wretched and blue,
a porcelain knife.”
a poem of mine about me.
for paid requests, message me on IG (@cadetbluemisery) or send me an email: myshkindarcy@gmail.com ♡
Shared 3 years ago
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