My head is abloom with red blossom
I planted from your heavenly-picked
And it smells like you
I let it grow because I wanted to
But the thorns behind the petals too
Now my mind feels like
An enchanting sunless garden
YOU ARE READING
Camera Life
PoetryMood : Can i play with you? Swing : Sure. Me : Why just play when we can have a party? Mood : * looking at swing * Swing : * looking at mood * Both : Yes!! Me : 😈
