"It isn't until we are falling, I think, that we realize just how high we once were."
a poetry collection reflecting on the fall, written while falling.
completed
You showed me your violin once. The wood was glossed Indentations from all different kinds of love Dark with passion Shaped to fit into the warm crook of your neck.
But the useless thing had all its strings snapped.
You turned to me and smiled. Swore you could play the thing and you weren't what had broken it In the end.
I laughed, then. Now, I realize I share too many things with that beautiful, useless, broken violin.
Your instruments and their destruction
Author's Note
As promised, a new update, readers!
This poem is dedicated to highnations because she followed me AND left the nicest comments on my last poem! Thank you so much for your support! Remember, guys if you vote and comment the next dedication could be you!
For those of you who follow me on Twitter or read my announcement post on here you already know what went down these last few days lol. But for those of you who don't know, due to quarantine I'm taking on a new update schedule! Now updates are every Wednesday and Friday!
Also, we hit 1k reads a few days ago and wow. You can read my full speel on my profile but thank you guys!
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