I stand aside
(choking on the scent of lilies)
trying my best to breathe through the sensation of my lungs ablaze
I've washed this sweater a thousand times
but it still smells like you
(like vanilla and lavender)
it still smells like death
(but it was your favourite)
I burned all the lilies in my garden
until ash coated my chrysanthemums
but I still cling to your threadbare sweater
YOU ARE READING
Amaranthine (Poetry)
PuisiJust a few poems written by myself. I mainly post on DeviantArt under the username Glasses-And-Blades.
