He was like a simple gift
His eyes as bright as wrapping paper
On Christmas Eve
They were my favourite things
And I could stare at them all night
But when he turned his head
And all that was left
Was his curly brown hair
I remembered that Christmas will always
Eventually end
But then your birthday comes around
And those eyes reappear
Although the colour has changed
Just like the wrapping paper
You welcome these new eyes
Hoping not to lose them
But the next day will always come
Along with a bag full of crumbled wrapping paper
- swizz
YOU ARE READING
poetry ):)
Poetryi write shitty poetry to make myself feel a little less shitty maybe it'll make you feel less shitty as well who knows
