she looks like art
surrounded by all
that misery.
she seems so
weightless,
her hair flickering
like a candle
in the wind
while i watch her float,
eyes empty,
down the river.
death looks
dangerously lovely
on you,
and your
stillness calls to me
daring me
to drown
with
you
...
YOU ARE READING
lack of petals, an abundance of thorns
Poetryin the end all words will be buried too
