use me like a never ending metaphor of unfinished affection.
write about how you've found me wandering astray or how you've left me right after for i was as lost as you are, and together we would never find a path to somewhere.
empty your pen of ink for i am the paper that's thirsty for it, so fill me with subconsciously written poems, i deserve that much.
make me immortal,
write about me.
after all
i was
once
the heartbeat of your poetry.
YOU ARE READING
Skyless constellations
Poetrya compilation of anything; the things that my mind and pen nudges me to put into paper. read if you have time to spare
