— dahlia.
my love, our love,
i did not desire for this to end.
yet when it did,
your part of our love lay beside me,
vacant and searching in something to blend.
and whence my heart asked
if it needed a hand to lend,
it's acceptance give me a friend.
as with time two auras of love came together, reshaping my corners like clay.
i found love, in me more than others;
for grieving is a game i choose not to anymore play.
i may burn, i may never;
yet no matter what they say,
i will choose to love me anyway.
YOU ARE READING
swevens of vernorexia
Poésiei shall bloom flowers of love in your heart, so you may bleed petals for blood when i leave.
