The beautiful silence
Filled only with his breathing
As I lean back in my tub
My old worn out tshirt and shorts on
Her texts make me chuckle
And my head rests on the beautiful hand of sleep
Her warm fingers caress my cheek, soothing my broken heart and weary eyes
My shoulders slump revealing a small bruise
My dark brown eyes close, partially hidden by the brown hair
I always hated my hair
My eyes
I always liked blue eyes
I always liked red hair
And blonde
And white
But never brown
Not my brown atleast
Never did
I thought it was boring
Bland
Sad
A sad hair color for a sad pessimistic child
The child's hands rest on a white dog now
Petting it's beautiful white fur
The huskys blue eyes gaze up
The ugly girl and beautiful creature look
They don't look
They see
They see two broken souls who need love
One needs a mother and father
The other needs a friend
Maybe they could treat eachother like the roles they desire
It would end the plot
Happy ending
But in real life things are sad
People die, things die, creatures die...
The dog dies, breaking her heart
She grows up a little bit
Becomes an artist
She becomes friends with a red head
Her first friend
Now she's a poet
How shall we continue
A/N
Aaaaaaa it's three am sowwy
YOU ARE READING
Seashells and Rosemary
PuisiThis is a book of random writings. I can't really call it poetry anymore. Not all of these are my own situations, but some are. I write quite a bit about others situations. Thank you for stopping by, hope you atleast stay for some tea.
