Pick me up, And open my cover, But be careful, Cause I might crumble, Read my fine print, Just don’t mock the way I am, I’ve been through alot since then, Drugs, Fights, Heart breaks, And more, Are all the things you’ll find, In my novel.
Do the flowers mourn when one is picked? I know that question is kinda morbid and sick. But I’ve always wondered if they somehow know, Like for weddings and birthdays that it’s their time to go?
Do they feel sorry for lovestruck dames, That pull off petals whilst saying their crushes’ names, That pulled the last petal on “He loves me not”? Do they feel bad that she’s distraught?
Do they compete on who’s the prettiest? Each person has an opinion of which flower is the best, Of their looks are they actually aware, Do flowers even care?
That girl sitting there is a beautiful tragedy her mind is an aghast her body is her grave her bones ache while her throat is being strangled whats wrong with her mind cant ever be untangled. she, is a beautiful tragedy
He looked at me, The way the sky looks at the rain, Waiting for patiently for the relief. Hands intertwining around my waist like vines, Every touch felt. Warm lips pressed against mine that has been worn. Heal them I say as if they have been broken so many times before. I love you, I love you.
As the autumn leaves whirl around I sit quietly listening to the sound And look outside, struck by what I've found The beauty that surrounds
Now fall is not my favorite time of year Christmas is, and for good cheer I get to spoil my kids, and my dear And love abounds
I love my husband and he loves me There's no arguing, we live happily I'm awestruck everyday by what I feel and see Like his queen, I was crowned
So as I'm faced with autumn, and the cold I'll surround myself with love and beauty untold I have my love and he has me to hold As the leaves fall all around