snowfall was the art of winter—its tears of mirth and pride—but it was a destruction that extinguished the vermillion flames on my hearthside. a reminder of the lack of warmth to emblaze my shivering soul and the void too immense to fill all by myself. in the dark, i grew more artless and lost because winter in my heart lasts for more than one season.
𑁍 raeminiscence ˚⁎⁺
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Seasons of Heartbreaks
PoetryThe heartbreak tales of Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring flowed through the words of every chapter along with the vicissitudes of seasons that unraveled the memoirs of their wretched cries and ephemeral enamorments. Like a speckle of dust, it ebbed...
