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If there's one thing I learnt
It's that the path we're on
Isn't made of marble.
It isn't so easy to race through
And doesn't have a fixed direction
Like most pathways usually do.
It's made of rocks
And thorns
And roots of old trees
That make sure we slip
And that it fucking hurts.
It's made of ice -
Cold, heartless and full of hate.
It's made of fire -
Fierce and ruthless yet filled with so much love.
And if you see closely
It's filled with petals -
Petals of the flower I'd tried to grow
In a dream that couldn't come true.
For us.
YOU ARE READING
You ✔
PoetryAndy is in love with her best friend, Julie, but no one knows that except for Andy's little notebook to which she tells everything. Since Andy has to move somewhere far away from her home, from Julie, she decides it would be a good time to finally l...
