the beat of
sparkling dreams come
true
punctuates the air of night.
my face pressed up
against cold glass,
and as a cluster of stars erupts
into the sky
i can’t help but think
of him.
YOU ARE READING
blinded
Poetryshe was blinded by his perfection. he was too blind to realise. ☁ [copyright simile-, two thousand and fourteen] #140 in Poetry | #904 in Romance
