You gave me a bouquet of roses,
They reminded me of you,
So delicate and beautiful,
Yet sharp and hurtful,
Your words cut me deeper,
Sharp, scratching thorns,
You kept on digging and digging,
But your pretty petals covered them,
The flowers have withered now,
Turned crumpled and brown,
Suddenly your beauty has faded,
And what's left is a painful mess.
YOU ARE READING
short poems I've written
PoetryI'll update this a lot tbh hopefully. Tw// gore probably
