Her P.O.V
"Faust... Faust... wake up...
Faust."
"What do you want...?"
He grunted,
half asleep,
his head buried in between
his knees, back against the
wall,
at the end of the corridor.
"Why are you still here?
Go home,
I'm alright."
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. ____________________...
