her emotions are temperamental
bitter baby, gone feral
and yet it's hard to picture a time
when i wouldn't enjoy the way
she spits hard on the paths beside
moaning, fingertips getting grey
with the cold.
rosy words always left stains behind
a watercolour mess,
for a fucked up mind.
i could never do it without her though,
so i beg her to stay,
stick around for a while, autumn, for me.
YOU ARE READING
sugar glazed.
Poetrya collection of short and long poems that entail hopefully a real perspective on life, love and relationships with others. please read with caution, some themes are heavy so read away, darlings, or don't, after all, ignorance is bliss.
