It smells like the frost on cold winter days,
Tastes as all things do when hunger consummates.
Feels as though nothing would ever be the same.
Laughs in your face, for you're the one to blame.
It looks like your worst nightmare spilling into reality,
Making you desperate for company.
YOU ARE READING
⭐ S a c c h a r i n e . ⭐
Poetry"Maybe the purpose of life, Isn't a definite aim, But, to stumble upon a place, That numbs your pain" ✒Copyrights © 2017 to @LittleMissSunshinine of Wattpad. ✒*Highest rank - 10 in poetry on 6/6/17. * First Place Winner of...
