She was history,
Her beauty comes in stages.
She's kinda vintage,
She's been growing over the ages.
She's a rebellion,
She's protesting,
She's resilient,
I'm sinking.
She's got me thinking late at night,
When she's no longer in my sight,
I'm looking at her all the time,
But I can barely meet her eyes.
She's got that look that I despise,
The familiar smirk, I recognise.
She's only pretending to play nice,
I know this isn’t gonna end alright.
YOU ARE READING
Crying Skies, Rain And Discarded Memories
Poetrymidnight silk flows from her head and a stormy sea lies in her eyes magic flows every time she speaks a crimson silence dancing across her lips
