roses are red,
violets are blue;
my life was perfect,
until I lost you.
-k.d.
YOU ARE READING
life as we know it
PoetryBeing a poet is like being really sick. But instead of vomit, words come out. This is my word vomit.
poem
roses are red,
violets are blue;
my life was perfect,
until I lost you.
-k.d.