I'm going to our secret garden.
For someone to enter, a key is required.
the sole one is in our grasp.
These images have aged.
I desired to hold onto this,
though ultimately burned it as papers transform into dust
I only recently learned about the remaining photo of us that I chose to save.
Now under the crying clouds I'm sitting by myself alone in a bench we used to sit. Hugging my cinnamoroll plushie
til' the dawn
and the day this garden will die.
❤️🩹
28 April 2024
YOU ARE READING
coeur blessé: THE LOST MANUSCRIPTS
PuisiMy enthusiasm for writing has sud3denly faded, like if my glass heart has broken into pieces that can never start again. I searched the depths of the sea, but all I could find was emptiness. I used to think that love might be golden, but now it's al...
