he sobs in corners that remind him of her: shallow
drowing in his quiet chaos
waiting, hoping, she'll return
he wants nothing more than his feelings of infatuation to be reciprocated again
no matter how much she feigned loving him
she was his brightest darkness
everyone warned him and he didn't listen
"don't fall for the beautiful girl. she's dangerous"
he didn't believe them
but even the most beautiful flower can prick you until you bleed
leaving you betrayed like dead heartbeats.
YOU ARE READING
nostalgia. || orig. poetry
Puisi"whoever said little things don't matter has never seen a match start a wildfire." -beau taplin
