I see her fading into the blue sky beyond me.
And I know it won't be long until. She disappears.
And her beauty along with it
Both her mind and her soul
And it won't be her at fault
It will me that failed again
Because everytime
They move on to better things
Things that they deserve
And idk if I will be ok
Loosing her as result of being me
This time
But I know that I'm not worthy
And I am only a pit stop
For the beauty that must rest
YOU ARE READING
The Petrichor
PoetryPetrichor / pe trīkôr / noun a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather. Dry heat Suffocating humidity The harassing thoughts In this long period I'm tore down Until... The first rain. And...
