Clouds I See: Poetry For Teens & Young Adults Подписаться

You left me a frappe at the door as if that’ll make me forgive you

Words flying

Glass breaking

I have PTSD

Oh would you pick up the pieces and love me?

My first love I love you

But he loves me

He loves me not

Sometimes I wish you’d rot in hell

It seems I’m the only stairway to heaven for you

Little angel

I’ll drink your frappe and smile

And try this love again in the morning