The moon craved alcohol —
For the dazed drunkenness of the soul —
The stars wished for a symphony —
For their light to reach the soil.
'Love me not', writes the child on the paper.
'These are just my thoughts, they will be read
by nobody, ever,
for they refer to
none in partic'lar.'
YOU ARE READING
chai and an interview with life. (DISCONTINUED)
Poetryfinish all your work and sit down because i will either lull you to sleep or have you wake up, screaming. or maybe we could talk over a vanilla milkshake and fall in love for the night. your call. NOTE: this is the first draft, unedited version. i p...
