i don't know how to stop writing about you,
how to stop picturing myself with you,
how to stop seeing you behind my eyelids
each time i blink
maybe you are in my blood stream,
flowing to my heart, reminding it to beat,
but it is more likely you are simply
each thought that i think
and i guess this is all there is,
and maybe i'm out of luck
but in the words,
of the famous kate moss,
you're in my veins,
you fuck
YOU ARE READING
deadroses || poetry
Poetry"we had a vision though, now we dead roses" now, why did she send them? these broken down, wilted, beat up, rotten-looking flowers.
