Like a blisfull day
in a painter's hand
sunset
portrayed me.
The truth
was almost as transparent
as my brand new scarf
that she left me
when she was
leaving
I was standing there
strangling my thoughts
with my bear hands
the feeling was
obscure
there wasn't any blood
there was nothing
just me.
The killer
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC
Like a blisfull day
in a painter's hand
sunset
portrayed me.
The truth
was almost as transparent
as my brand new scarf
that she left me
when she was
leaving
I was standing there
strangling my thoughts
with my bear hands
the feeling was
obscure
there wasn't any blood
there was nothing
just me.
The killer
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