That smell Just before a summer storm Seeps into my eyes As I am the only person left out in the rain Under the sky And the only thing which could clear my mind Is the smell of lilac as it dies
Why can’t I write? Like I once did before, Tragedy and remedy. Wrapped up simply yet in a hoard, What bounding breaks of wording. Make truth simply desired not abhorred, When words of life are ever fleeting. A desire of wanting the same but more.
here you go, take a sip of your words, chew them with patience, swallow them, and now tell me, how do they taste, bitter? rotten? obliterating? heartbreaking? salute me, i have been swallowing them for such a long time
