she was art
she was the first blooming flower in the bright haze of spring
she was the light on my phone when i feared monsters below my bed
she was the constant throb inside of my head
but migraines can be cured
and the dark slowly turns to light
and flowers wilt and leaves fall
and even the most beautiful pieces of art can go unnoticed
h.h
YOU ARE READING
little poems
Poetrythese are little poems that id never love enough to show [lowercase intended]
