dear oliver,
“i think i love you,
quinn.”
the sand slipped past
our toes as we swung up,
letting the cotton
candy clouds twirl
around our fingertips.
“i think i love you too,
oliver.”
a tiny laugh breezed
through our lips because
we knew there wasn’t
any thinking left to be
done.
when you fall, the world
shakes, the birds sing,
and the whole forest knows
a new flower is ready
to be born.
our flower. our love.
quinn
YOU ARE READING
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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...
