They come in waves.
Kamikaze planes or
lovely flowers and sweet lullabies.
Blood boils,
slapping against my skin,
Sometimes.
My love is seasonal,
It won't stay.
Don't expect anything from me.
You will be bitterly disappointed.
a testament to the troubling winds. my poetry doesn't follow any rules.
✨minimal to no cursing✨depression✨hopeless romantic babble✨
proceed with caution.
2018-2019