you’re like a drop of dew
to a barren desert,
a word unspoken
in a love story,
a chloroplast
for the birth of light,
unseen by some,
unnoticed by others,
but to me, you’re that single drop of dew
in a desert void of rain,
you’re the missing line
from a happy ending,
you’re the breath of air
I take in deeply
when I feel broken,
yet we don’t speak—
as if we had never left
the same paradise.
YOU ARE READING
Plastic Hearts
PoetryA plastic heart could never beat, but maybe it would be happier without thinking of you.
