I think chance or perhaps fate
has a sick sense of humour,
to turn a casual glance, a waving hand, a simple “Hey”,
into a story of hateful love and loving hate.
But don’t worry, my love.
I’ll suffocate the butterflies you left in me
with the smoke of oblivion.
And as I watch them flee
I’ll have the grim satisfaction of knowing
they were never alive to begin with.
#Shortys2024
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Shortys2024 Challenge
PoetryA collection of poems for the Shortys Challenge 2024. Starting September 1st , I'll be posting a short poem a day and submitting it to the challenge. Join me in this personal quest, and let's find out if I can complete the goal of writing 30 poems i...
