To the owner of the café I go to every morning:
She has my usual ready for when I get there at exactly 7:10 in the morning.
She doesn't know where I live,
she doesn't know what I listen to,
not even my name.
But she knows what I always get for breakfast.
She knows me better than anyone.
YOU ARE READING
"NOT SO LITTLE" LITTLE THINGS THAT KEEP ME HERE
PoesíaI'm not perfect. Not everyone likes me, and I can't always be easy to love. It doesn't always make me sad. it's what I am. a person. These fragments of thoughts are conceived as what I call "poetry." for you, these might be stories, mirrors, hugs...
