infatuation is interesting. all i can think about is the way your voice wrapped around the stems of lilies, and how the piano behind you could never surpass you. judgment finds its way into my mind; it is simply because my presence was not worthy enough to be near yours. i don't know your name(it was on the pamphlet, actually), i don't know your favourite colour or whether you prefer american spelling over british(i prefer british, but that definitely isn't important), i don't know how old you are and i do not know if you like summers over winters(you seem like a winter person(maybe)). all i can think of to lead myself to my own death if how nice of a smile you have.
*
i don't know if anyone noticed but some of my chapters have similar attributes. it's because of this one incident that was horrible and wonderful at the same time, and i can't stop writing about it
YOU ARE READING
paraphernalia
Poetrypretentious poetry. FOREWARNING: this was written over three years. my style changes dramatically, as does everything else. quality of pieces varies.
