An unlit candle sits upon a desk, hoping, praying to someday find a flame, the perfect match to ignite that listed-after passion known as love.
I was alone, nobody, and she was everyone.She was my waking moment and the last image I saw before I drifted asleep― a bittersweet fantasy of everything and nothing at all. She was quick and witty and spry, the embodiment of youth. I was wide eyes and tenderness and quiet questions in the dead of night, a mere whisper masked by a thousand screams. She was foggy breath and the sharp chill of forgotten gloves. A flame as cold as ice, a fire carved of marble, a nap to a lost, frostbitten soul. I relished in her heat and shivered in her cold, not realizing that loving her was loving death until I had fallen in love and asleep in the snow.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Poems and Short Stories
PoesíaI considered titling this something like "Rain's Droplets of Poetry" or something like that but ??? there is some vent poetry in here, I'll add warnings before each chapter that contains these
