"i once knew a boy
who loved to play with fire.
his hands loved to grace the flames,
ghosting his fingertips
like matches waiting to be lit.
but never once did they eat away at him.
that should have been my warning
that i was going to be the one burned
at the end of things."
YOU ARE READING
Q u i e t
Poetry"a collection of the words i fall asleep thinking and the words i wake up to." [lowercase - completed]
