i will come up with some quality content soon *cries*
And HOLy fAckEr ThiS WaS 372 in POetry? thank you magical humans.
Pink streaks, lavender leaks; the bench was as hard as stone.
Fingers fumbling, papers crumbling; she waited to hear the ring of her phone.
Nails dug, skin fragile like a ceramic mug; revealing the glistening white of her bone.
She p l u c k the blue petals.
Her a n x i e t y was boiling like water springing from scorching kettles.
He's probably stuck in the traffic,
But the strange colour of his brio is nothing she could graphic.
This time she believed in the smoky voice embraced by the dark.
Threw away the blue flowers before the echoes boomed of the wild dog's bark.