i don't know how to stop writing about you,
how to stop picturing myself with you,
how to stop seeing you behind my eyelids
each time i blinkmaybe you are in my blood stream,
flowing to my heart, reminding it to beat,
but it is more likely you are simply
each thought that i thinkand i guess this is all there is,
and maybe i'm out of luckbut in the words,
of the famous kate moss,
you're in my veins,
you fuck
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.