Flowers are the most expressive form of love;
Picking them from fields all hours of the day till the last;
This field can be our tomb, if you want to stay here forever watching the passing stars.
If I die, after we've lived life passing every bar.
However I die, if my grave be blessed by demons or doves.
When I die, and storm clouds are far above.
Leave Morning Glories, and your name, on my grave, my darling Ash.
YOU ARE READING
Undead Poetry.
PoetryLate night poems written by an insomniac, and published here. This'll be my poem collection, and will stay exclusively on Wattpad. I hope you enjoy these poems as much as I enjoy writing them.
