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Grief Written

She wasn't grief ridden, she was grief written. Words traced in salty ink.

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Showing posts from February, 2025

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- February 25, 2025

And may he never receive that type of love again At the same time May I never extend it Or accept anything that resembles this

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With love, Shaely: I think too much, sleep too little. I feel everything deeply and have a fear of the shallows. My thoughts form in lines of poetry and my pen knows what I'm feeling before I do. I'm a complex being in search of simplicity. Welcome to my world.

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