Blistered Lips Poem by Stefanie Fontker
Blistered Lips
She holds onto the sleeve of a watchman,
Though he would name her unfound,
Head turned to gaze across an ocean.
Her heart was birthed of bright silver,
His of a million shades of gold,
An impure cut to her once bled vein.
To be made of glass was her sin of a blazing sun,
But his love was made of deep piercing hurt.
His heart was trained to bite, not kiss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/13/2026 8:24:15 AM # rel_20260811T123139Z_a98d49b
Like it. Its a hard game been in love. Good write.