,,Can we burn it fast?"
She asked me
when we were burning down evidence
of our love.
Why she couldn't let it be?
,,This kind of love won't last."
She's sipping alcohol from the broken bottle.
Her lips are bleeding.
We were feeding
this love with passion
and lies.
We loved ourselves before it became fashion.
Photos are burning.
Flames as high
as my expectations.
I just wanted to fly
with her.
YOU ARE READING
The headache.
Poetrynot very optimistic poems. //in english// •The beautiful cover is from @teckopluste. You should totally check her out, she's talented, her covers are badass!•
