Money feels so warm and yellow in my hands.
I keep the crisp notes in the sunlight and watch them
grow and gallop my mind in one go.
It's my first earning fourteen dollars,
and I'm freaking out already.
I'm happy I can live by myself now.
For one second, I broke my promise "I could never forget you."
I forgot him for one untouched second and
stared at my earned dollars for so long.
And I don't regret it 'cause I know a cruelly blissful fact now.
Even though money doesn't buy me happiness,
it doesn't shatter my brittle heart like you, either.
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A/N: How about a vote for women who have stood strong amid all odds?
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 ||