You made flowers grow in my lungs when I look at your face.
And they're absolutely beautiful,
But I can't breathe.
But I'm thankful,
Because you replaced the weeds,
With something more ethereal.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry ☹ Lukeyslaugh
Poeziepoetry ˈpəʊɪtri/ noun literary work in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a ge...
