I smelled the rotting smell of the blue
I dug in the sky and stare to your grave
I pulled your decaying heart and eyes so brave
I put them to a skull that I used as a pot
And drop the seeds of our love; our story's plot
And pour the blood, of the person we used to be a lot
As The seed slowly, showing its true form
As the roots slowly crawl in the heart so ferm
Now it is a full grown, lily of blue
YOU ARE READING
Scented
PoetryI can smell colors, I can see scents, I can hear feelings, and I feel the sound of silence.
