01.23.23
Hope is a poison I drank every night. My chest constricts at every gulp but I love the squeezing pain it brings; the sour taste that blends within; the grimace that flashes across my face; it makes me feel unwanted but I still love taking the role in Mr. Cupid's game. I knew the arrow would hit me, but it'd hurt me good. I would certainly bleed, but I'd bleed like paintings displayed in museums. Pain is an art. And I am a masterpiece.
—georginariver, an excerpt from 'wine of regrets'
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Rhymes & Reasons
PoetryThe sun sets and the moon rises, but your absence stays still. August slips like a blink and winter should have been colder, but summer memories warm my endless nights. First love never lasts and so does us, but the way I love you at sixteen always...
