i always thought of how our conversation, intercommunication, also perhaps our encounter, are phoenixes.
if you don't get it yet, the birth of us is as a fire from our own ash.
the first birth as our first ever rendezvous. and after that we always knew, we will shut ourselves. we always knew. there is nothing that we can do about it.
but then we meet again as new people and pretend nothing ever happened ?
oh how i love that.
how i hope we become fire sooner, as now we are still ashes.
because now we are both afraid to lit our fire.
🖤autumn
YOU ARE READING
autumn's journal
Poesiaanything for everything from the rise and fallen of something. poems about the pain of living and growing up.
