deepundergroundpoetry.com
First Love
My first love taught me how to breath again. She replaced all the nails in my throat with roses. Her favorite kind of flower. So that every breath I took was filled with that sweet aroma that reminded me of my first love. And when she left I choked on every last thorn in an attempt to swallow my sadness and forget the smell of roses. God I hate roses. But I don’t hate her. I will love until I learn to love myself again. Until I learn to breath again.
Published 13th Jul 2018
| Edited 6th Oct 2018
Author's Note
It's kind of short but just something I wrote while on the train this morning.
Yours Truly, D <3
Yours Truly, D <3
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