The worst thing you can do is to underestimate the words and stories I have hidden inside of me.
The words that I have buried for years, untold, because the worst thing I can do is to hurt you with them.
And even though you are quick sand, it takes a lot for me to fall into it, even if your whispers seduce me.
I deny every once of courage I had when I told you I loved you and how brave my lips were, pressed against yours.
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.
