stale

    How amusing it is that time passes by in the most peculiar way I noticed it in the flick of a lighter lines mar my skin a year has aged me It’s unbecoming measuring out my life with those ticks I have become a slave for them

learning the blues

  I plucked one of your roses needle pricking my skin crimson just as red as those petals   You told me It’s not time yet   I wait for spring to come almost as much as you crave winter   It’s in those moments that your heart grows warmer icicles latched to your skin…