your jacket smells like nicotine
there's gunpowder in your eyes
you sound like fractured bones
+ what goes bump in the night
they're distracted by the thorns
+ the barbed wire in your hands
they never get to see the roses
or the gardens that you plant
they tread over you each day
+ stoke the fire in your heart
at the sight of the broken stems
each day + night you fall apart
'take this,' they'd kept saying
snapping buds off your flowers
lighting the end with your fire
+ pushing it between your lips
'you'll feel better,' they said again
when you choked on smoke + tears
+ you breathed in the wilted petals
'til you were nothing but oblivion
– but broken stems + cigarettes
2 5 / 0 5 / 2 0 1 9
RECOVERED 12:11PM
a/n to everyone who actually reads these little epiphanies of mine – thank you... it means the world to me. and i'd also like to apologize for being absent for so long.
my head's been in a blurry place since the beginning of the year and writing, whether it be assignments or simply for the joy of it, has become very tiresome and difficult for me.
this is dedicated to someone who has been anticipating my poetry for quite some time now, sorry for the wait...╮(─▽─)╭
– LAILA
YOU ARE READING
𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗒
Poetry❝ 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀. ❞ 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗴𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗼𝗿 🔌🔥 ∗ ∵ • ° ⋅ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗇 2018 ©
