Her words were like silk
So precious and valuable
We wandered the empty pine
The conversation stable
I knew it'd never work
Even though I loved her
She would say such beautiful things
But you're never quite sure
Cause even salt looks like sugar...
YOU ARE READING
Seashells and Rosemary
PoezjaThis 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.
