Clouded sky but the sun still peeks through the gaps of the clouds and my window,
Clock's ticking but time seems to move slowly,
Polaroid and posters on the wall,
Unkept blankets and pillows,
Crumples of paper,
Spilled coffee,
Faded ink from the stained pages.
Birds chirping, subtle rustle of the leaves,
The scent of the impending rain from the cold air mixing with the scent of strong coffee fill my senses,
But you still cloud my mind.
From the subtle rustle of leaves,
From the cold air embracing me,
I wish you're here,
Not just on my mind.
YOU ARE READING
Scribbles
Randomhi, if you ever came across Scribble, this book contains my feelings, my thoughts- basically my confession that I chose to be kept with me and be written. But as I want to share what I have, my unvoiced voices. Maybe I can have people relate if not...
