I leave a page blank
hoping one day you realize
ink spilt words about me
are still the prettiest
ones I've ever seen.
But you,
with the babydoll face,
never pick up the pen
because your heart
belongs to another.
Does it hurt?
Not at all.
Or maybe too much.
#yk
YOU ARE READING
Roses In The Sun
PoetryA book dedicated to the thoughts that lie beneath the surface of all that I am, all that I will be, and all that I hope to become. A book dedicated to the outcasts, to those who've felt invisible, to those who want to read and fall in love with the...
