Flowers:
I can collect seconds
Like petals of a flower
And hold them in my hand
And breathe in the sweet
Sickly smell of memories
That Thursday afternoon
When I watched
The world end
In your arms
What a myth
To even assume I
Belonged there
In the first place
Or that how
I felt when your
lips pressed againist mine
Was something
Wicked lovely
Because when
I look back at it now
All it is, is sad
But then sadness
Can take over
So when your
Pretend "love"
Enters
My brain,
I gather it up
Because I have never
Felt like
That before
And surely
I must be mistaken
But your mouth
Spoke words
That hung heavy
Empty the air
But I'm sure you really did
Mean it once
I mean
It's doesnt mean
Anything anymore.
YOU ARE READING
aesthetic ✔
Поэзияmy poems, give credit. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK SUICIDE AND DEATH IS MENTIONED MULTIPLE TIMES. PLEASE SEEK HELP IF YOU ARE SUICIDAL, DEPRESSED, OR JUST OVERALL SAD. YOU ARE LOVED. •••••••••••••••••••••••...
