She was always so convenient.
Her smiles would radiate rays of endless sunshine.
She was all anyone would ever want.
Her dreams were in colour, vivid colour, she could see everything as if it was a reality.
Oh she was so convenient.
Her smiles, her lips, so luscious, so soft.
She was so convenient, too convenient.
Her lips drained of colour, black and white shades replaced it.
Her smile dulled down, the sunshine that was there faded, her lips were a straight line.
Her dreams no longer showed in colour.
Everything was bland.
She was always convenient, wasn't she?
YOU ARE READING
Rosētum
PoetryHere lie the roses, the roses that are the foundation of my rose garden, pluck them gingerly, here lie the roses that grew full of toxins and purity. Here lies my heart, My Rosetūm. All pictures in the story are mine!
