funny how i write so many poetries about my favourite sceneries
and know more than enough words
to describe what spring looks like
to a blind guy
yet can't write a single thing
about the way we steal glances
at each other across the room
and not know enough words to describe how much i want to run to your embrace
and kiss you then and there.
YOU ARE READING
letters never sent
Poésievintage papers inside a bottle that has been washed away by the waves of memories, letters never sent.
