What more can I do,
than turn my glass in my hand
water crystal clear,
and wish that it was wine
so that maybe I could hide
between the dotted lines,
blurred into my eyes
As I may
tip back, cold ice
infatuate my chest
stop the pain,
heal the burn.
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
Existent
ŞiirHighest rank: #23 In poetry. A compilation of Poems about love, heart break, depression and everything in between really. Black, white, and of course, a dose of grey.