"Goodbye, love."
And for the first time,
this felt so different.
Like bleedin' wine through
her fragile heart.
Perhaps, the stars didn't glow,
Or the moon didn't flame,
Or there wouldn't be any tomorrow.
Or we wouldn't be lovin' each other anymore.
But for the first time, this felt so raw.
Like heading to somewhere awfully cold,
without any coat and away from home
Forever.
-sometimes, we can go along without pretendin' we're an us.
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A/N: I missed the yellow stars and your lovely comments so much! How about some sprinkles of stars and confetti? ;)
YOU ARE READING
the slow art of breathing bitter
Poetryslow dancing love and pain in the midnight chorus of liquor-washed autumn green ... || a constellation of destructive poetry ||