Through the scars in my heart grow these wilting flowers.
Love-me-nots
And I know they'll never be picked, still, I water them
They're drowning.
YOU ARE READING
Once bitten, Twice shy
PoetryI used to keep a diary with my poems and songs but my parents didn't like what I wrote about. Maybe I can write here.
Her Interlude
Through the scars in my heart grow these wilting flowers.
Love-me-nots
And I know they'll never be picked, still, I water them
They're drowning.
