pressed tightly in a book long forgotten
a dead flower so purple and bright
how it retains its softness without becoming rotten
i will never know, though try as i might
how old it must be, stuck in letters of romance
sucked dry of life and love and memory
two lips of tulips, an eclipse of chance
where ever it came from, it now lies in emery
i hope this flower lives as long as this story loves
what a poetic justice for the genre to gain
when everything dies around and above
this flower will live again
YOU ARE READING
here
Poetryseasons change like how emotions evolve here's the start of the end of a story about a heart's default its full of loneliness and unknowing written by a girl who's feelings are still foregoing cover art design by @omgitsliza on insta
