Flying high, in the air,
like paper planes.
It's a doom destined from the beginning.
Feeble hopes,
fleeting dreams
and faith,
a fragile little thing.
Baby we're the oceans afar
and I'm in a free fall,
coming your way,
hold me.
Let us drown together,
into the blues deeper,
those cobalt eyes,
now my favourite colour.
Let us burn together,
brighter and better,
even if we aren't meant to be.
-KT
A/N:
⭐️ 👀
YOU ARE READING
22
PoetryAlthough the age 21 is where you're considered a proper adult, 22 is actually where the reality of adulting sinks in. It is a phase where, you're clueless as to where to begin and run in circles. Well, at least most of us. It is a...
