"I like to think that I'm an artist."
A girl said with her head down.
"I have so many different art
supplies."
She said when no one was making a sound.
"I have lots of paper too."
The girl said pulling her sleeve.
"Is the air hot? Cause I really can't breathe."
A quiet sob came from her mouth
Who knew that the brushes were her knives and the paper was her arms.
YOU ARE READING
Sad, Romantic Poems
PuisiWarning! Some (most) of these poems are sad and depressing. Copyright © All Rights Reserved RachelandAriana 2014
