I know we were young
and these thoughts are just
melodramatic coins thrown
into a bottomless well,
but I must ask, the vacuum
between us now,
if I was ever more than leftovers to you?
If I can ever see myself
as more than the girl you called
by mistake.
The girl who watched you burn
your hands in the fire
she told you not to go near.
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020
we’re here for a reason, and, most of us don’t find out what it is, until, later on in life, the thing is to keep on, questioning the things we encounter in our lives, until they finally, start to, make sense…
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I love everything about this, feels a bit like I could have said this.
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♥️🖤♥️
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Love that image, as well as the poem:
How colours are concentrated centrally, and turn greyer at the outer wall.
Those bright leaves, descending, toward the darkness.
(Did you take the photo yourself, Kristiana?)
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Thank you, and no it is a copyright free image from Pixabay ☺️
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Well it certainly was a good choice.
( I like the fit with the third and fourth lines of the poem.)
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Thank you!
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