It rained on a Monday. You sat alone
in an empty bookstore, fingering the pages
of an old copy of
Gatsby.
I watched you through my car window,
wishing my love upon you, but it wasn't
enough.
YOU ARE READING
scribbles and drabbles
Poetrya collection of drabbles, mostly one-line thoughts. a plentitude of emotions and hue poetry. many of these are tweets from my illhueminati twitter c: (c) mockingjayde 2013-2014
