I thought you would be together with your serenity by the 30th letter,
Or at least have spoken to her in person over tea,
But there you sit still drowning in cough syrup,
Spilling ink over the desk,
And that's even more painful than a cliche that starts at page 3.
23/02/16
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Paintbox
PoetryPoems from the inner corners of my brain, under my nails and the end of my paintbrush.