the dust in the air
reminds me of
the dead soldiers in my hair
the thorns from the rose bushes
planted among my freckles
are digging into my skin
leaving me with metals
i haven't seen feathers in two years
but i'll be your tourist
as long as you get me a florist
YOU ARE READING
maybe i'm dreaming (COMPLETED)
Poetrya sky full of poems, none of which connect (stars without constellations) this is a compilation of almost every aspect of my life in poems, as well as some fictional elements too i hope you enjoy my cemetery of secrets -lowercase is intended for sty...
