candle
a cloud-like bed
a dresser littered
with photos
a wall painted yellow
covered with art
and a flickering candle
that you blew out
and this is what
we could've had
pride
i try to scream
your name
but my pride
sets me in place
beyond ability
of movement
so i cry when
you don't look
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Poetrypoetry with no rhyme or rain most of these r rlly old and embarrassing but im keeping them for the lore
