They talk of getting blood from a stone but what of finding a single star in a constellation, luring the tip of an iris from beneath a lid, or birthing a voice from years of gestation? Perhaps some cocoons are just too warm to leave; some secret wings too paper-thin to last against the bite of the wind. Better to live in the shadow of a coward’s heavy lungs than face the wrath of lips that will not accept betrayal. “Gone is gone,” they say, your words weaving themselves into iron bars of no return.
Beautiful little poetic prose!!! 🙂
Thank you very much! 😊
Nice work man. I just wanted to inform you that if have a second blog up now. https://bunsareallthatyourequire.wordpress.com
Thanks! Best of luck with your second blog 😊
Thanks Callum.