We were like candles.
We burned with passion.
At some point those candles burned out.
And all that is left, is the smoke.
YOU ARE READING
Written in the Paper
PoetryA series of feelings and unspoken thoughts. All poems/paragraphs written by me, myself, and I. A chaos of feelings I can only express through words. Enjoy. #438 In Poetry [8/20/16] #260 In Poetry [8/22/16] #102 In Poetry [9/0...
