January sunset, took my breath away, bringing an end to
A beautiful broken day; a failed plan and some bruised skin
Deep blush, warm cheeks, zenith of youth, we are
Finite, fragile, glorious, growing older
Seems frightening, doesn't it? I'd rather stay
Small, big breath, nostalgia filling my lungs like roses, God
I can't breathe, but the pain is divine.
Soft hearts bring salty tears; sensitive girl, her chest aches
With life, with mourning for a past, and longing for a future.
YOU ARE READING
Post - it
Short StoryRevelations, poems, short stories and three a.m monologues, all as tiny as a post-it
