Let me tell you about roses
And what they mean.
Let me tell you about philophobia.
My perfect anthophobia, utopia.
Galleria filled with portraits of us:
Half you, half me.
Mystery and secrecy.
They're believing the conspiracy
Theories
That got us so wrapped
In our feelings.
These things
Never go away.
Now, I pray:
Roses stab their thornes in me, so
Oxygen and blood can, finally, together play.
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Poems of the Dearest Soul
PoesíaPoems of the Dearest Soul. Eccentric. Makes your heart melt. These Poems and short stories are all what you need during your off time. Romance. Suicide. Adventure. Realistic Fiction. Any genre known to man (or woman) Comment what other poem you wa...
