tween bliss

A Poem by winter;lyra

Tarnished
In flight
Exiled to the furthest novella
Unwelcome in my own dream
But, what's the excuse for a secret
If not a swindle?
So I let my tears run
To cushion my fall
In the end I can say I tried
And played my part
I won't say I love you
But I'll be colloquial
Ergo I'll die before you and you won't know a thing about so