Ninety

Poetry

I hope

that my swollen hands

can give you constant forgiveness.

 

I only dream

that you will look at

my wrinkled face

the same way.

 

I know that

what will never be enough

is offering you my infiniteness.

 

But when

the days turn to memories,

the fire becomes dust,

we become each other’s airways,

 

I hope, above everything,

you will see that my harmony

comes from the home I’ve found

within you.

For more original poetry, follow me on Instagram @creationsbyjayda.

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