He's given me roses.
Not the supermarket ones in the fancy wrapping, the real ones.
I accept the roses, carefully smiling as the thorns prick my skin
He returns the smile, but i can see him waiting.
Staring.
I clutch the roses righter.
Waiting.
Blood drips from my hands.
He loves me.
YOU ARE READING
theories
Randomjust some poetry and theories of how i see life.. I'm no good at presenting anything but i shouldn't have to be xD hope you like it
