Footprints
dent her dreams,
down the trail,
she never ventured
through the gate,
she never opened
into the garden
she never discovered.
⚛︎⚛︎⚛︎
i dream out loud so much so they vividly morph themselves into a reality. sigh
YOU ARE READING
{ 光 } ━ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝟣𝟩𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 ( fin )
Poesíashe had hoped to know who she was when blowing out her seventeen candles Ⓒ 2017, shoobari. All Rights Reserved sigh, ok : #26 [ 06 | 29 | 17 ]
