Sitting in a somber place.
Somber mood, somber space.
Pressed against a solemn face.
Painful lips, perfect taste.
Skin alight with perfunctory fire.
Scathing words, overt desire.
Blood smeared across your nose.
Broken soul, beautiful prose.
Words constellating in absolute order.
Absolute chaos, earnest borders.
Whisper into my open palms.
Trace the veins, trace the calm.
"Some things just aren't meant to be."
Some things aren't meant to guarantee.
Sitting in a stagnant sea,
Stagnant you, stagnant me.
I'm free.
*
a/n: this was written in the POV of one of my characters in NW because
1) i havent written a rhyming poem in 39458684 years
2) i haven't written in 1st person in 956868668 years. just kidding. 3 months.
3) stagnant sea was a phrase i used in the story
but yeah this was pree cool, if you thought this was cool i bet you'll find nuclear water cool and if not, that's cool.
song: mind of mine, zayn (that's literally the only song i like out of his album im sorry chaps)
see u chaps on the next block xx
- C
YOU ARE READING
Stagnant
General Fiction[ collection of things that never really fit, short stories, poems, whatevers ] Things that could be so much more, and yet churned to a stop.
