i wrote a thing

this isn’t a poem.
this is me letting the tap run,
letting the red ink drip so
sweetly from my
love-stained fingertips.
this isn’t a poem.
this is me counting
all the times you made me smile
(they last me until the next time
i get to see your face again).
this isn’t a poem.
this is me romanticising
every atom of your body
my dear, your whole being
is a work of art.
this isn’t a poem.
this is my heart.
hello, i am sorry for not posting much recently. i think i’m too ingrained in life and that definitely isn’t a bad thing. don’t get me wrong; i will never stop writing.
all the love x
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