can we make a fire on the ground
and pretend we're cult
dancing around?
let's celebrate the death of our love
and all the mistakes we've made
as we burn the place-
embracing and letting the cold away, we didn't kiss for we're afraid to risk another goodbye and get back to havoc of the ignorance and miscommunications.
and when the fire's burned down the place and all that's left was ashes,
i'd look up to you with teary eyes, smiling wide and wounded.
it's better if we burned the place together with ourselves in it.
YOU ARE READING
unspoken
Poetry•𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 [𝑎𝑑𝑗𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒\ˌən-ˈspō-kən\] 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑...𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢. *** 𑁍𝕔𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝚌𝚌𝚝𝚘. 𝒫...
