an aroma of honey, so fragile and beautiful
the honeypot, how so is the container of such
of brustled colour, the sunflower it is
her hair's shine tethering me with a smile
her body drifts through the walk of awe
her hair flurries from a galloping skip
of brustled colour, the sunflower it is
her eyes where strokes of kind sky exist
i've had no experience, this is true
from my eyes tearing to my heart thrashing
of brustled colour, the sunflower it is.
her faces of joy, i fly through the sky
YOU ARE READING
under the soft
PoetryThis is going to be my first piece of content I'd like to share so wish me luck! Farfetched as it is, aren't you the most special person there is? Aren't you the person who has to keep living with a little lot of pain every time you keep going? Do y...
