the trees did not complain
the day we carved our initials
into their calloused skin
and isn't it sad that something
so beautiful would put up with
that pain for a love that
would not last?
YOU ARE READING
deadroses || poetry
Költészet"we had a vision though, now we dead roses" now, why did she send them? these broken down, wilted, beat up, rotten-looking flowers.
