I look at the white rose in its vase, the others long gone.
I know it's fake.
It's still so beautiful, but reminds me exactly of you.
Holds the realistic beauty of something that can't live forever,
in the illusion of something that will never die.
You were the illusion of true love,
in a world full of heartbroken sob stories and the ones that got away.
YOU ARE READING
How Are You? 'Fine'
PoetryI may not be the best writer but I get inspired easily so I need to let it out somehow. Wether it's through art or writing I need to escape. These are kind of depressing tk let you know. If you comment anything I try to comment back ad soon as I can...
