He ran with both hands in his heart
His thoughts exploded in flames and
despair is what ran through his veins
He wiped his soaked face while breathlessly gasping for air and certainly he could not contain his crying. He was made of storms and disaster, his shelter fell into pieces leaving his heart fragil and with lack of protection.
YOU ARE READING
Sweet Melancholy
PoetryShort poetry is all i can say .... Lost in paragraphs of an undying love. A long story that was bound to never happend .... But it still did. Here is where the words must end ... They no longer have a meaning and they betray reality and it's dimensi...
