I know you want roses
when your iris drips blue
But you can't look for love
and run from it too.
YOU ARE READING
September was good to me.
PoetrySeptember was good to me. But it was also bad too. [poems of my seasonal depression and other things]
You're crying too
I know you want roses
when your iris drips blue
But you can't look for love
and run from it too.
