our love
is the smell of spring rain
and walking through a forestour love
is like painting a red rose
white againour love
is a cigarette being put out
by ice cold lemonade
and our love
is the citrus trickling down my throat,
while beads of water
drip down my chin
and the black ash
your fire left
settles inside my boneskylie szenski
YOU ARE READING
roses in the wintertime ✓
Poetry❝ don't fall in love with the moment ❞ #663 in Poetry 06.05.17 #27 under #rupikaur 20.07.19 #33 under #rupikaur 15.03.21 #10 under #rupikaur 21.03.21 #6 under #rupikaur 11.06.21 cover by jakepatt