Their makeshift curtains are visible from the path And my windows are stark in comparison Too high to show into my soul Where my bare windows make more sense: That heat pooling in at 4 in the afternoon Falls directly on my sorrows And is the only thing that reminds me of home.
Sunkissed
The pallor of my skin mocks me. I miss the sun’s feverish kisses On my brow until its touch burns. The pain means I am loved.