When the air begins to warm again, the wind doesn't care. Your cheeks are pink and a little numb, but you relish the feeling of wind through your hair. It's been so long since you've smelled lilacs in bloom, or gone walking just for the hell of it, but what is life for if you don't love the small things a bit?
YOU ARE READING
Ode to Life
PoetryIt's chaos to figure out how to live. To love yourself, to love others, to create, to destroy. It's just life. But maybe... just life isn't a bad thing? You can't have good without the ugly. This has all my poems combined, this'll be my only poetry...
