I thought that you were heaven, for your hands, like the touch of a rose petal, were soft on my edges and cracks.
But you were hell, for your words were poison and they burned every corner of my darkened mind.
YOU ARE READING
Blooming thoughts.
PoetryAnd the flowers that he grew in my lungs turned to wilted flowers, making it harder to breathe. And then the rain made them bloom again.
