"You aren't worth of my poetry. You aren't worth the sad words that seep through the wounds in my heart nor the tears that I used up crying on nights like this. The euphony of my poetry was inspired by blood curdling screams of homeless ghosts & memories trailing after me. And if spilling blood onto paper was the only love to profess my love to you, then it was never really love ."
- What was it?
YOU ARE READING
Belgium Nights
PoetryPoetical writings of a girl & her past memories. #7 in poetry 💕
