For him, I fell. And when I landed, it was the most painful thing, and I felt weak. An addictive abuse. But then someone picked me up, and I was resurrected. He fixed all of me that had broken, and he gave me a love that made me fly, and with him, I didn't hurt, I wasn't afraid of what was going to happen when I hit the ground, but only how I would feel when I could finally touch the sky, and lie with the stars.
YOU ARE READING
Ne Decorem
Poetry"Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice?" - Virginia Woolf
