But please remember when I am gone that I was not sunshine or sunrise I was not beautiful,
I was a fire I was a storm that of which this world could not contain anymore.
But you, know this, I may have been a fire but my flame danced on window panes and in the whites of your eyes,
I burned bright before I died.
Do not miss me, there was nothing left to miss.
YOU ARE READING
Broken.
PoesiaThis is simply a place for me to put my poetry. All poems are written by me unless stated otherwise. Contains content that may be triggering
