• kalopsia_squared 19w

    It is strange indeed
    When you turn back
    And look at the monochrome memories,
    Standing like dried flowers
    Pressed cautiously between
    The yellow pages
    Of your dusty diary,
    And smile for a second,
    Cry for a few minutes more,
    And wonder,
    When the world had
    Started associating stargazing
    With mistakes.
    All we wanted
    Was to swim in the sky
    Bathe in the moonlight,
    Drown in the stars,
    Yet all we could do
    Was to set our wings ablaze,
    And drink a cup of poison
    To buy a few stolen moments
    From eternity