She loved the watching the rain,
twirling its way out of a midnight sky.
It seemed to wash away her pain,
a gentle ally.
She loved the being in the rain,
seemingly drowning inside its depths
succumbing to the sirens,
letting in capture her in heavy chains.
She was a northern downpour,
and just like every drop from the sky,
Her heart would live fleetingly,
but very soon die.
YOU ARE READING
Oleander-COMPLETED
PoezieALL RIGHTS RESERVED Her words were like oleander flowers, so delicate, like a gossamer spider string, but poisonous, like her scarred, despondent heart. *in other words, my crap poetry that is still really important to me*
