I don't know if this thing we had could be described as love
Because it both felt like being thrown in the darkest depths of abyss
And then raised in the most cerulean of skies
It's okay though
Because this thing we may or may not be allowed to call love
Was the lone bright beacon that led us out of the dark
And the last blessed anchor that kept us on the ground
And in the end of the day, this was the only thing that mattered
YOU ARE READING
incandescent
PoesíaBecause our love was like a fire: sometimes we let it consume us, and others we made it shine. A collection of poems.
