Beneath your clothes

On the soft part of your skin

There lies a bad land

No one should see.

You let me near you

Breathing softly,

But breathless and restless

Nonetheless, only yours.

It’s over your body

I take my hand

Brushing your skin

Healing your wounds.

Badlands have wild roses —

Thorns may prick fingers

I pay the price, anyway

For visiting you there.



Posted by

Check out for my original stories, one chapter at a time. features my original poetry, mental health advocacy and deep thoughts. Thanks for following and reading.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.