you know when you're driving and it's pouring down rain, you drive under a bridge and everything stops. everything goes silent and it's almost peaceful. then you finally get out from under the bridge, and everything hits you a little harder than before.
you were my bridge.
YOU ARE READING
deadroses || poetry
Poetry"we had a vision though, now we dead roses" now, why did she send them? these broken down, wilted, beat up, rotten-looking flowers.
