you're the deep, navy blue
contrasting with the sweet taste
of honey on my tongue
when you near
daffodils grow
in the crevasses of my stomach,
yet my vision is clouded
with your stormy, night sky
it's like the feeling
of the gentle breeze on your skin
while listening to the god-awful sound
of nails on a chalkboard
you're a mix of bittersweet
that i just can't seem to explain
YOU ARE READING
growing seeds from wilted roses
Poetrydear reader, my friend, please be gentle for you are reading pieces of my heart written onto these pages for your eyes to read and for your heart to feel.
