Poems from kristenbennett

The whispers and mumbles, somewhat quite faint, Are to the old mind, I’m afraid, much too quaint. Oh, the bright light, it comes to...
A poet, so determined, to write his first line, He wanted to make it his own; he would call it “Mine.” His intentions were incomplex; The...
In unorthodox verses with a poetic tongue, And my vibrant fingers crossed, I’ll trigger the gun – A formation of words, so to speak I...
Withering walls with chipped paint, Alone here I sit and wait. Abandonment flooding like sealed doom, As if enclosed inside a tomb,...
With your touch I just might shatter— Into a million pieces I can’t put back together. My porcelain skin shivers at the mere thought— How...

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