It's a trap
my eyes close
my breath quickens
he never left.
Is it him,
or is it the flowers?
they're haunting me
YOU ARE READING
His Flowers, My Garden
PoetryThe flowers of the boy I once loved remain in my garden. MY garden. He's still here. Is this his way of getting back at me for treating him with nothing but respect? Will I grow to overcome the hardship of love, or will I fall even further into the...
Pg7
It's a trap
my eyes close
my breath quickens
he never left.
Is it him,
or is it the flowers?
they're haunting me
