A two week old cup of homemade lemonade right before I brush my teeth with vinegar

Losing all my trust,
yet I still believe you,
admitting my defeat.

You have lied,
many times before,
and you still told me things,
no body knows.

Showed your true colours,
but never showed your face.
Flirt with the thought of death,
somehow you were stopped,
but this time,
nothing stands in the way,
except for a bottle of rum,
a golden pen and a writing you'll never understand.

coloursdeathpenpoetryrum

◄ Bless in a dress (Or just a coincidence that happened at the right place at the right time, I honestly do not know anymore)

Feeling like Butters after the break up (sad yet happy that it happened) ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message