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ollpheist
Nothing ever ends poetically. / It ends and we turn it into poetry. / All that blood was never once beautiful. / / It was just red.
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Poems
5
Followers
38
Words
67
singing
touch
tells
song
turns
heart
sing
keep
head
siren
belly
kill
harmonies
bed
hollowed
tired
better
bark
kiss
excuse
melody
ash
dead
good
negatives
night
sand
eats
harsh
disposition
empty
ghost
rests
lessons
friday
shelf
hold
lips
cut
gold
hoping
emblem
top
undeveloped
learn
lesser
kind
taste
sacrificing
sleeps
box
handful
voice
wrong
notice
