on the night that my words have run out
like how tear ducts dry
colours change in the sky
and the thousandth crane changes route
*
all my life I've been taught
you're too good to be true
that on the inside you're blue
that I'll just have to make do
*
but this paper crane is coming
straight towards you
and all these dreams are renewed
all these thoughts carry though
*
now I see a beauty in hopeless-
that I wish not to define
the will to fix something deemed broken
and then to call that thing mine
YOU ARE READING
what makes us ethereal
Poesiea collection of poems about love, life and sadness ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ but alike the stars, what we have what we see, we have let go you see, the stars that we see right now are a reflection of reality, long ago ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘...
