I met you in winter, your coat was green, your lips were chapped. You smiled at me in the coffee shop I went to every day.
You told me you loved me in spring. You'd run your hands through my hair and we'd stare at the night sky from my backyard.
I saw you everyday in summer. By autumn you were tired of me.
You left your coat in my house. I don't think you're going to ask for it back.
YOU ARE READING
ballads of heartbreak
Poetry"I'm sorry that I'm like this, I'm trying my best" -essentially a diary, slight tw for being self destructive & harmful, some really good stuff crammed in with a bunch of nonsensical three am cry sessions
