And so I come crawling back to you,
poetry;
After my high
when all the love
to smoke
and fill my lungs
is gone
I am back
to all that's left:
poetry;
the ink stained paper to soak my pain
like no tissue ever could with my tears.
YOU ARE READING
| Bits & Pieces | ✔
PoetryA little bit of everything and nothing at all. //short poems// [some might be triggering] Highest rank: #224 in poetry (16th September, 2016) #272 in poetry (21st August, 2016)
