sooo, yeah.

Something I wrote forever and a year ago, not really about me, but someone else, and the stuff around their room. I never really gave it a title, help me think of one.

An eclectic mess of who I've been

with black tops

tick tock silver clock your black hands keep track of the time I seem to be losing

Snow globes of dreams

Polaroid pictures of a town across the sea

Make-up smears

and magazines who claim to change

burnt down candles randomly placed between

frayed paint brushes whos cheap ends have painted ages

and books

full of words and stories, stories far away

tattered photographs of who you once were and who I never knew

smiling faces through sepia tones.

I know it's weird, but hopefully, not super terrible. :)

Have a lovely evening.