Breathing,
It is honestly
Such a simple thing,
And yet I have missed it
So much.
I swear,
I took my last breath
When I met you and
I've been holding it
Ever since.
But today,
My lungs opened up,
And the air swirled in,
Filling my lungs so
Gloriously
g.c.g
YOU ARE READING
The blossom of a poet
PoetryWords fall softly like the petals from a blossom tree, drifting slowly onto the paper, creating poetry like the spring, beautiful and light, but just like the seasons, the poetry changes, the autumn comes and the words become heavy, falling quickly...
