VIII
❝ The lightening strikes at half past midnight,
And I swear there's a trace of gold shining in your eyes,
An ancient treasure of mine, how I wished.
But I promise that one day,
I'll live to see those eyes light up,
And one day, I promise they will meet mine.
Just as hope, and fate will bring us to.
Though I can only wish,
upon an impotent flower's beauty within my presence.
I knew from the beginning,
That she was the girl with a fairytale face,
But her mouth screams of a wolf's.
I was in for it, anything for her.
I love her. ❞
YOU ARE READING
A Zenith Below My Peak (✓)
PoetryCover credit to @MoranaGlinka ❝ Here forth a compendium of anthology. A miscellany of words brought together to form one. A cliche love romance and all of its downfalls. ❞
