𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈

It started with a spark,
          now we’re on fire.

Let’s get lost in a world
          made of books, coffee and
          rainy days.

Your worst sin is that you
          have destroyed and betrayed 
          yourself for nothing.

You biggest mistake?
          Thinking I need you.

Summer was a refuge.
          Love — a lure.
          And parting — an irreversible burning.
          
          But when the wind blows again,
          I feel it once more:
          love — that merciless lure,
          into which you fall, only to vanish.
          

Inside me, there are oceans.
          Shadows.
          Memory.
          And a light that shines even in the darkest nights.
          If you can’t swim — don’t blame me for drowning.
          

But we cannot simply sit and
          stare at our wounds forever?

If I knew then what I know now,
          I would've stayed strangers with
          a lot of people.

The ocean
          is a poem
          without
          words.

i might
          be the
          writer
          
          but you'll
          always
          be the
          words