I’m trying, I swear It may not look like it with my crystallized tears on my face and my paper heart tearing itself into shreds
By Sarah Lovern6 years ago in Poets
i met an Angel in a treehouse once Her wings were black, Her feathers ripped like a pigeon popped into a blender latticework on Her porcelain skin
Love is free except sometimes it isn’t. My mother’s most prized possession cost her more than I’ll ever be worth. Therapy is expensive.