she turned away.
he turned his face towards her and she turned hers away.
he handed her a flower of poppy red and she took it and turned away.
she lived to survive and he survived to live.
he wrote her songs to bring her the spring, and she turned towards the other side of the track.
she had always turned.
her heart was always with him, but the urge to turn was always too strong for her to resist.
even with all of his heart, he couldn't trust her not to turn. in the end, he was the one to turn.
she was there, but his turn cost them everything.
YOU ARE READING
exhale
Poetry"can i exhale for a minute? can i get this out in the open?" a collection of feelings molded into mediocre poems
