• wine_mirrors 5w

    Her heart is a forest.
    Hiding beneath a pained chest.
    Beautiful and foreboding in nature,
    For it spills and gives birth to dark creatures.
    Shrill melancholic voices rise
    Above the night; a lonely choir,
    Yet no one knows when it might suffice,
    For a flint to catch fire.

    Her heart is a wild forest,
    Beneath a chest that yearns to cry;
    Yet only there shall I seek my rest
    For she sings lullabies with the nightsky.