Shoot the man, grieving over his own grave.
Bury his heart far away so he'll never feel warm again.
Mask the scent with her sweaters and perfume that he loved so much.
She'll come back, like she promised so many years ago.
And their tears will build a forest.
His heart, a mountain.
Her promises, lost in the wind.
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 3:26 AM UTC
Shoot the man, grieving over his own grave.
Bury his heart far away so he'll never feel warm again.
Mask the scent with her sweaters and perfume that he loved so much.
She'll come back, like she promised so many years ago.
And their tears will build a forest.
His heart, a mountain.
Her promises, lost in the wind.