hot tears, cold pillow
the worms in my heart wont stop whispering
but im the rotten apple that continues to shelter them
when i decide to let go theyll eradicate
but wouldnt you know, im afraid of finality
if even my flaws are dear to me, its apparent
i cant let go for myself, but let others slip through
fleeting thoughts and flitting words
YOU ARE READING
poetry by yours truly
Poetryive tried writing poems, but theyre not all that good... go easy on me
