My lips are numb,
From all the fake kisses you used to give me.
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We are the broken.
Stony and cold.
We're are the Grim Reapers,
Here to collect your soul.
We'll crush it up,
Into a million pieces.
Until, all that remains,
is the distant fire of before.
YOU ARE READING
thorny roses | poetry
Poetry❝roses are red, so are my eyes, from all those times you made me cry.❞ _________°•°•°•°•°•°___________ a collection of the words I spin at midnight.
