By: Fiona McHugh
Wilted flowers
Source: Flowers 12 | Penelope Peru Photography
Shrines of dusty magazines
Buried feelings in our sheets
They’ll never bloom or get to breathe
If there is not a chance to speak
By the rhythms of the room
I sense it’ll be over soon
I’ll pick up my clothes and leave
The parts of me it hurts to see
So I can mend myself back
Painting gold between the cracks
Idealism cannot last
When the foundation is built upon broken glass
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