⁎ ⁎ ⁎
you held on to your broken parts so tightly
there was nothing left to separate the good from the damaged.
blood could trickle down your fingertips
and you would enjoy the warmth.
optimism? ignorance.
addictive beauty? toxicity.
oh, but you were so convinced
that they were all one in the same,
it consumed you wholly.
— 3:21 pm | 04/17/18
YOU ARE READING
𝙿𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁𝚂 ⁀ ᵖᵒᵉᵗʳʸ
Poetrywe're all passengers on a plane with no destination , no pilot , and a flight of borrowed oxygen. ────────── collection of shorter poems that speak to my heart on occasion <3
