Melancholy,
as it sounds
you’re the glory
while I am the ground.
Ashes grown
in plants I smoke.
Burning up,
the weed we toke.
Desperately trying
to keep your gaze,
learning from
our lonesome days.
Swallowing the truth
we found
cowering on
the soft and sound.
I love you now
as I loved you then.
But does it matter,
where and when?
For hearts to think
and souls to mend,
I can’t imagine
our paths won’t blend.
A song I know
once has said
it’s all the same
when said in bed.
Breathing in,
a smaller time;
a summer sound,
a silver chime.
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About the Creator
Rielee Flodin
I love humans too much not to write about them. We suck, but I’m trying to suck less.
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