17. Stolen
Wandering in my own hellhole
I had become used to my scarred soul
But then you came
And I knew nothing could ever
be the same
You tried to fix things
Hoping to give the butterfly back her broken wings
You made me whole
I'm sorry for your happiness I stole.
YOU ARE READING
Ethereal
PoetryHis ethereal soul Creeping its way into my hellhole If only I could stop him If only I could forget him But his ethereal soul Is what makes me whole. **** Third poetry book everyone! Ethereal-A book written in the memory of lost love. **** 🌟 Second...
