Poems by Willow Noir

Eyelets, twelve black metal sets,black round laces pull against them.The top three empty divots,laces weave a criss-cross system. Dark purple-pink

I reserve suspicion only for myself.I hear some irrelevant thing,then twist it inside out.My mind gives reason no place to

In the valleyof the smallestmountainI will climbthe largest peak‘til it burstswith swollen joy