Frames | a poem by Connor Franta

Order my New Book here: Come see me on Tour: Subscribe to my channel here: My Previous Video: NEW Season of CC Clothing: My First Book: ­­­­­­­------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- • All My Social Media Links • Main Channel: 2nd Channel: Twitter: Instagram: Facebook: Tumblr: Vine: Spotify: Snapchat: connorfranta ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ • Business Contact • For Inquiries, please email: @ ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ • Music • Background Song: Outro Song: ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ frames photographs fly down where we used to lie down removed by the same hands that used to hold my hands together we pack them away in cardboard capsules behind closed doors memories stay and decay in the grace of queens and kings to a land where dreams are made now hidden in darkness an empty row of nails line the wall my eyes sting with pain his white tee stained with a cocktail of tears we wish to hide beside them two stowaways capsized in the present below our melted hearts blood drains from our veins as the door closes one last time on everything we used to know our eyes shut before midnight no words to break the silence wishing for an extra hour hoping for a better day like the ones depicted behind the wooden frames ­­­­­­­------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hope you enjoyed the video! have a great week, loves xx