dear oliver,
you stopped talking to me
and now have a cigarette
hanging by your tongue.
she's gotten you to take
sips of that cloud and
be a sky for it. now
you just look at me with
hatred. with disgust.
wouldn't blame you, oliver,
everyone else does the
same. just longer.
quinn
YOU ARE READING
zero
PoetryQuinn scribbles tainted emotions across thin layers of white paper. But to who? To someone who blinks once, sees her, and blinks again-just to make her disappear. To someone who sees her as a symbol of the ocean. To someone who thinks the ocean is...
