Reality in Fiction
This is what I like about fiction—no, not because I could make myself perfect through spilling chocolate in my entirety and coating my body with pastel sheets.
What I love about fiction is I could craft another abode where I could still hold your hand and you could still hold mine.
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YOU ARE READING
He Who Cried Words
PoetryYou made my eyes cry but never of tears. You stabbed my chest but it never made me bleed. When you broke me apart, you just gave life to an art. When you broke my heart, you only fueled me to write. -E. Pleuvoir Cover made with canva
