Dear Diary,
I cant sleep which means one thing
I get to think of him
When i can't sleep I think of my favorite things
And no not cheerleading, writing, or chicken wings
I think of the best parts of him,
Planning dates and adventures on a whim
His messy hair always soft as a baby
When he would open my door and call me his lady
That smile that never fails to make me happy
Never feeling like I had to be too sappy
When I think of him my minds at peace
His words as soft as warm bedded fleece
A fantasy that will always stay in my dream
Until we meet again, hopefully as a team
YOU ARE READING
Letters From The Unhealed - POETRY
ŞiirLetters to the ones I love, the ones I used to love, and the ones I haven't loved yet. From an unhealed soul. Letters from the Unhealed explores my personal young adult journey through poetry. Ever since the day I turned 18 the world seemed to hav...
