When
And when the most beautiful butterfly flew right out of the wild and landed in my garden, we said it was looking for love.
But how do I make it stay, cause I've found love.
© amimoh
Think of this blog as a diary gone public; a mix of spilt ink, overthinking, and poetic chaos. I write what hearts whisper at 2 a.m., then pretend it’s art. Welcome to madness.
My little brother didn’t understand. He dragged a chair, stood on it, pressed his lips to the glass frame of the picture on the wall, and wh...
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