burnt
burnt burn stories
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soprano
soprano frog enthusiast
Autoplay OFF   •   6 months ago
an older poem that i wrote last spring about distorting other's perceptions of you.

burnt

you were a fantasy, a bright-blue dream that i devoured, my eyes drowning in love as they fell upon you.

it seemed you could ignore the bright-red scars on my body and fold the drops of blood into roses.

so i believed i was a blossoming garden under your gaze. you unraveled my nightmares and spun them into intricate tapestries which i cherished in my daydreams.

i was a phoenix, rising and ready. i was an angel. with you i could live again.

then you left. you were an hour on a clock which ticked away much too fast. you were light, coming through an open window only for someone to close it.

to you, i wasn’t a rose. i was a bloody mess. i wasn’t a daydream. i was a nightmare. i wasn’t an angel. i was a ghost. i wasn’t a phoenix. i was burnt.

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