Her words are so raw,
that reading them feels
like invading a home,
that's not supposed to be yours.
Like walking on flowers,
that haven't yet grown.
Like touching a body,
that has never been loved.
— when I read her poetry.
YOU ARE READING
A Hundred Roses
PoetryAnd suddenly, I couldn't tell anymore if it was me the one reading her words or her words were the ones that kept reading my soul
