She wrote about sunflowers and waves and seashells in the shore
She wrote about night drives and graves and how she longed for something more
She wrote about beauty and grace and how she didn't want to live before
She wrote about thoughts never meant to be said and how art is better left unexplained
She wrote about tragedy and catastrophe and chaos and hurricanes
She wrote about wishes made on shooting stars and goodbyes said on trains
She wrote about the weather and the sun
She wrote till her hands held the gun
She wrote again that night about a girl who was tired
But she never wrote again after the shotgun was fired.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments
Poetry"Everyone's playing checkers with their scars, saying checkmate whenever they get out without a broken heart. Just to be clear I don't want to get out without a broken heart. I intend to leave this life so shattered there's gonna have to be a thousa...
