So tired of love,
Tears into dust
To only be breathed in again
And long stretches of meadows to have no ends,
For oceans to crash, wave after wave
To resurface the messages in the bottles that decayed,
To bring to life ink that settled and will soon fade,
To bring thrill back into past time's escapade-
There is no purpose in bringing back what has made its departure.
Why don't you face it, troubled heart? It's over and yet too far...
Move on, childish heart,
Pick yourself up, you still have a road to travel; leave this baggage at the stop where it's dark.
YOU ARE READING
Last Year's Flowers
PoetryIn the third installment, Last Year's Flowers, MissReads19's poetry takes on a new shape through storytelling. Crafted from fragments of poems written through time, Last Year's Flowers takes the reader on a fictionalized journey of love from beginni...
