I imagine it sat there,
soaked by the entire rain;
my words, black bleeding blobs of ink
on a ruined wet paper.
YOU ARE READING
drafts of yesterday
PoesiaA collection of poems // "I'm nothing but shambles and the words I can't write."
The Letter
I imagine it sat there,
soaked by the entire rain;
my words, black bleeding blobs of ink
on a ruined wet paper.
