I wonder
how you'd react
if you knew
your hands
are holding mine
when I'm asleep.
I wonder
what you'd think of me
if you knew
I hear lullabies
of my name on
your lips
until I'm fast asleep.
I wonder
how is it that you don't see
how
downcast
downhearted and
dispirited
I feel
when reality
rips apart my dream,
when with
s i l e n c e
is all I have to deal.
YOU ARE READING
I named her Africa #Wattys2015
PoetryI didn't mind if my fingertips were rusted with coffee grounds, or if my palm still hosted bread crumbs, I reached out my hand across the table, and you squeezed it but proved me wrong. My mind was spiraling, my heart, unstable. ____________________...
