and if only you knew how much she did love you when it lasted, you wouldn't have left. maybe. probably.
THE GIRL WHO SPIT FLOWERS.
a poetry narration book.
seopresso, 2017.
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– two
blood red was the color within your veins running like a network everywhere. of aggression and authority and sin. of the macabre of isolation you reminded. but you made me delusional with a blood red of loyalty, life and love.
- and i bled. constantly. passively yet so thoroughly.
