Jul 2017
If I were paper, you could be water;
And I’d allow you to seep into my skin,
Not bothering how wrinkled I’d get right after.
You could also be fire;
You’d burn me to ashes,
But I’d love to feel your warmth all over.
Or you could be ink;
And leave me with our story,
Of how desperate I was for the love you could give.
And I’d allow you to seep into my skin,
Not bothering how wrinkled I’d get right after.
You could also be fire;
You’d burn me to ashes,
But I’d love to feel your warmth all over.
Or you could be ink;
And leave me with our story,
Of how desperate I was for the love you could give.
a.e.
(03252017, Germ Magazine)
An old piece. About an unrequited love for a boy who used to mean the world to me. But whose existence now only serves as a reminder of another lesson learned.
(03252017, Germ Magazine)
An old piece. About an unrequited love for a boy who used to mean the world to me. But whose existence now only serves as a reminder of another lesson learned.
