it's shivering-ly beautiful,
the way we hold on forever.
it's precarious and deadly-
haunting.
but we choose to haunt ourselves,
don't we?
we make the choice,
every day,
to see the faces of the lost ones,
everywhere we go.
we haunt ourselves.
YOU ARE READING
𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞,, poetry
Poetry──── ⋆⋅ ❝ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐞 ❞⋅⋆ ── just some simple, kinda crappy little thoughts, poems and songs i wrote while listening to folklore one afternoon<3 track titles by t...
