finger prints were meant to be fine
not as blurred as yours are with mine
puzzle pieces fit but its a melting picture
words on a page seem like crossword you cant figure
baby grey paint on hands built for yours
pushing the fog just to get to the floor
clouds over stars dont block the right way
let go of the rope so you can walk there one day
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the title is the name of a paramore song but it suited this so well
YOU ARE READING
makeshift roses
Poetrythey start to wilt more every day, but i can never stay away i grab the roses and touch the thorns, because pretty things have devil horns (this is just a thought dump. ive written a lot of stuff on my own so i thought id see what everyone else thin...
