|save me|
There is something tragic and lovely in the way a cloud of smoke pours from doomed lips. You know that you want to save him, but each time you taste his mouth there's freedom. Soon you wonder when you'll save yourself.
Your picket fence is collecting dust and this new city feels cold. You're glad that the good you is gone but sometimes you miss her smile. Sometimes you miss him too. You wonder when alleyways started to feel like home.
Now you're in a dark room and the cloud of smoke is still there- it's in your lungs. You wonder when freedom turned to bittersweet beer. You can't find the beauty in dying.
You do it anyway.
YOU ARE READING
True North
Poesíaan anthology of poems, paragraphs, and short stories ❝ i want your beautiful sorrow, your head so drowning in dreams. and i, the ship that rescues you, or do you like to be lost out at sea? ❞
