There was that one night we laid under the stars. The damp cool grass beneath us pulling us closer together. We tried to count as many stars as we could see. You would tickle me and I'd loose count. You'd never let me count more than ten, because ten had an ending.
Stars are an infinite amount you'd say, and you didn't want my counting to end.
Just like you wouldn't want us to end.
Just like how something infinite is better than something definite.
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Roses and Thorns
PoetryAn assortment of poems about love, heartache, and finding your way back. (Still a work in progress) -Would adore any feedback
