It's four in the morning
I'm lying on a bed the size of a thousand yards
With an empty table around the corner
White noises from the TV
Withered flowers on dusty vases
Corridors filled with cobwebs
Neighbors still quietly asleep
Nonsense conversations with my shadow
Broken phones that I've stared for years
Leisure melodies lingering through my ears
Waiting for you to stand on my porch
But the wait will never come to its end
Having a tough time learning
How can I say that I miss you?
YOU ARE READING
the archives from batch no. 823
Poetrya collection of unsaid thoughts, archived in my mind and now written in words.
