The silent self mutilation of climbing into fresh bedsheets dusted with the scent of you and gripping tight, realizing all my nights are spent sleeping with a ghost.
Month: September 2020
September
Do we still look up and see the same sky? Some days, it feels impossible to even feel certain anymore.
Promises, Lost.
hundreds of red rose petals and all the reasons I’ll always love you, set ablaze and scattered like ashes lost in the wind.
