He once told me I was his Elizabeth Bennet, but he slowly began to pour water on the fire that used to burn so bright inside and replaced it with ice and empty words.
Leann-2025
YOU ARE READING
Every rose 🌹 grows differently
Poetryheartbroken depression grief love anxiety. I started writing poetry in 2020 after a rough patch in life so I've decided to share some old and new ones some from my diary I hope you enjoy and feel less alone
