he was the death of me,
this shadow that spoke,
he was my every breath,
this person who painted my strokes,
he made me a masterpiece,
with flowers and beautiful lies.
he broke what's inside of me,
after playing and throwing the dice.
but after killing me,
he brought me back to life,
just to do it all over again.
YOU ARE READING
written for you // poetry
PoetryThis is for you. For all of the lonely nights you laid awake, For the pain and suffering your heart had to ache. This is for those who care too much. For the people who wish to have someone else's luck. To those people, what can I say? I only wish...
