I guess once you're hurt
you stop to believe that sparks are even real.
They continue to live on
as a pigment of our imagination,
but we have to face the fact
that fantasy and reality are just not meant to be.
— from the time that I believed in people in love.
YOU ARE READING
up in the clouds
Puisishe felt trapped, or more likely she really was stuck wherever she was. writing poems was her escape out of the black hole she fell in through. whenever she wrote what she had to say and expressed what she had felt, it was almost like she was up in...
