I wrote you the same way stars die
The way they are left spent
Burning everything it has left
Until it becomes a supernova
Swallowing up everything in a black hole
And slowly disappearing
Until it's barely visible to the eyes
What is left may be minute
Yet it could still weigh so much
And even after I got rid of you
You would still weigh on me just as much
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
