picking little glass shards out of my fingertips and throwing away the picture frames makes me feel like you're gone, but you still tap on my window pane now and then and i see the shadow of you in the tree, and my heart still catches you on the street corners. i still hear your heartbeat and see your eyes and i still feel you.
i don't know why you haunt my thoughts, but i am weak and made out of fragile stone, so please don't taptaptap until i have a few more walls up.
[]
if i could fly,
s.
YOU ARE READING
thoughts ≠ sx
Poetrysomething in between a rant book and a book for a girl to ramble in. [ @clairescovers ]
