hanging over me, the wallflowers
dying memory corsage
rotting, beautifully
boutineer, baby's breath, waiting yet
undeserving of any love any longer
he goes to purgatory, an act of love so strong
it commends terrorism to himself
to those i love
to the purest spirit
gone and sold for 150 roses
anonymous loves each, and the Wallflower
feeling so dirty now so soiled so far gone
he craves the days
simple joys-- held hands, stolen kisses, simple days.
innocence lost.
No comments:
Post a Comment