Sort of hidden,
the walls in my room are
a birch tree.
I am in its limbs
as I
lie in bed.
I feel guilty
like
a church in the suburbs.
We are sleeping
heavenly
through life.

Categories: Art, Poetry, UncategorizedTags: c.eve, dark, dark poetry, eve, ofeve, poem, poet, poetry, shadowofeve, thefirsteve, uncategorized, writing