Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2018
i sit and breathe
the world, becoming
shapeless
and i float
left to a whisper
scents of lobelia- soft
thoughts of you
like pressed flowers
between the pages of mind
beautifully preserved,
dead,
nonetheless
would you still be here
if i didn't pick your flowers?
Maxx
Written by
Maxx  22/M/Philly
(22/M/Philly)   
  355
       CnΓ©, ---, yΓΊyΔ«n, irinia, --- and 7 others
Please log in to view and add comments on poems