a dove in love with a glove
i rememberwhen i realizedmy hands couldnever sketchthe images soalive in my headcountless hoursdragging the heelof my palm acrossthe graphite onlyto see disappointmenton the smeared sheet the pursuit of perfectionfrom a skewed perspectiveis the assassin of creativity the madness lieswithin writing as welleach word needs balanceaccording to the melodyonly i can hearbut when the choirgoes silentthe […]