dear oliver,
beauty is held in
between the eyes
of those coated
in the bitter
kisses of mascara
and eye-liner.
while me?
i’m lip-locking
with Sleep.
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...
xci.
dear oliver,
beauty is held in
between the eyes
of those coated
in the bitter
kisses of mascara
and eye-liner.
while me?
i’m lip-locking
with Sleep.
quinn
