The sun rose up
- so did I.
I woke to see
the fleeting sky -
but when I turned
to see the trees sway,
You cast a spell
And turned the skies to grey.
What went wrong?
I tried so hard to see.
But the promises you made,
were destined to not be.
YOU ARE READING
Prismatic Memories
Poetry"i. they tell me they cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. scie...
