---
no stroke of pen or line of art
can capture you the way you did to my heart;
no word of poem or heart of novel
can tell how hard, to you, I fell.
will you ever hold my heart?
I worry.
you're too pretty to be in my art,
I'm sorry.
my drawings and paintings
look ugly next to you.
you're never just one of my musings;
I'd hand them all to you.
---
YOU ARE READING
the places i've been to inside
Poetryt h e p l a c e s i ' v e b e e n t o i n s i d e ╰ a compilation of poems ╰ ongoing i am still on my journey. i do not know where this heads to, but it's all inside.
