they whisper our names,
at our own house,
thinking they can hide it
behind their low hats,
and raised champagne glasses.
they cannot.
they can't hide their hate for me.
but it's fine,
isn't it?
because i know
you'll still love me,
no matter what our guests say.
so keep hiding,
your smirks and gasps unconcealed by champagne.
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...
