"We were a mess.
An utter mess, in all reality.
Your eyes were always red from the smoke coming from all the dreams you've burned, and my throat was always sore from words I've swallowed down.
But in the end, when I kissed your lips and your hands brushed through my hair, I never thought a hurricane could look so pretty."
-(m.m)
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryThis is a poetry book made from people who request to put their own poems in here to any poem I find online. It is made for people to share and express their thoughts and emotions. *NONE OF THESE POEMS BELONG TO ME* (REQUESTS ARE CLOSE)
