At some point the bruises slowly start turning greenish.
And the cracks are slowly invaded by intrusive weeds.
And the tears suddenly dry on the cherry colored cheeks.
And the laughs become louder, without a single care.
And the sky seems to be wider, to spread your wings.
At some point, you thought you'd be always hurting.
But now you're stronger, not letting anything bring you down.
YOU ARE READING
Blooming thoughts.
PoetryAnd the flowers that he grew in my lungs turned to wilted flowers, making it harder to breathe. And then the rain made them bloom again.
