there was a hole forming deep within my heart and i think that you played some sort of part in that.
your words were like black thorns that made its way inside my body and slowly killed me from the inside and all this time i didn't know.
i thought you were gold, not black.
i thought this was love, it wasn't.
you were my final masterpiece.
i wish i was yours.
YOU ARE READING
objet d'art
Short Storyart is never finished. only abandoned. priscilla c. // two-thousand sixteen lovely cover made by @herondayles // @dandielions <3
