He dug his fingers into
my colors,
searching for himself.
Carving my insides into something
beautiful.
Writing his words
across my skin
making a book out of me.
He took the flowers out of
my garden,
and planted weeds.
He took me apart and hung me
on the wall
and called it
priceless.
-
Author:
k.s. (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 4th, 2017 14:30
- Category: Love
- Views: 18
Offline)
Comments1
this is amazing great work
Thank you!
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