liquified sunsets // bohemian beats // tightrope love && december breeze
"𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒚, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏."
aches so, i don't believe i have enjoyed garish mellow love a bit more than fine young ladies do. in spite of his auburn hair, old smiles and one laugh apiece, i am silly enough to quiver and tremble at his every quirks. and i knew then and there, my heart shall break.
irrevocable, his words are mine to bear; an allegory that tangles me into confusions yet those strawberry lips are worth the stare. skeptical syntax of deep blue havoc, every phrases he weaves does deafen my ears. therefore, my heart shall break.
of plucked chrysanthemum and ivy plumes; little did he know i have collected so for my vases of june. of pianissimo voices and a diction that soothes, his entity is the night highs perfect picturesque. and my heart shall break, there and then i knew.
and his allegories brought me to my chaos, his woven syntax bore me eulogies, chrysanthemum aren't for vases yet for my grave, his soft voice never muttered words of love. aforementioned are the pieces, i have made him my poetry; an open poem made of blood of pain turned inks, and heart-wrenching gist.
aches so, i don't believe i have enjoyed garish mellow love a bit more than fine young ladies do. in spite of his auburn hair, old smiles and one laugh apiece, i am silly enough to quiver and tremble at his every quirks. and i knew then and there, my heart came broken at the sight of liquified sunsets, tuned to bohemian beats - a love never meant for me, that ended at first 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒛𝒆.
ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ