circus of verbose foliage
sighed the void, it's all too familiar. tiny tweaks over a year's occurance leave phantom writings watching from the crowd.
I could weave fantasy about lemon blue codominance and how he'll probably never care for me, about the love I once felt safe in the arms of, about a growing heart with an upstairs floor.
regardless of its name, it has always been the same.
and here we are, beckoning to you. front row tickets to a barely sold show, hidden silhouettes crowding in the back of the room darkened.
please, enjoy the show.
(A/N: and so we begin again.)
YOU ARE READING
Don't Try [Poetry]Poetry
a testament to the troubling winds. my poetry doesn't follow any rules. ✨minimal to no cursing✨depression✨hopeless romantic babble✨ proceed with caution. 2018-2019