if your heart could host
any more of me,
it'd soon grow weary
and spill out.
I used to be an angel,
but my feathers fell off.
demonic eyes.
the cold hand.
-
Author:
𝓱𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓱 (
Offline) - Published: December 6th, 2025 11:43
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments1
Oof. I absolutely love this, Hayleigh! Gothic as hell! Totally relate! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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