The four walls
Which bind my room
Bear the stains
Of last fall:
When I drenched myself in paint
To cover all the scars.
I used to bring fallen leaves
And put it in a jar,
And somehow it resembled
My broken heart.
One by one
The leaves dissolved
In the paint of the walls.
I put my pieces back together
The next summer,
As the heat weathered away
All the rough edges
of my walls,
And then rose again,
My complete soul and heart.
YOU ARE READING
In Between Those Two Pages
Poetry"A little too less, tasteless, A little too much, unbearable." Such is salt, and so is life. To the rose I preserved in between those two pages for so long that the pages no longer smell of them. Highest ranking: #44 in poetry as of 08.12.16
