your eyes are the colour of drowning and every time I look at you I feel the air escaping my lungs
YOU ARE READING
obituary
Short StoryAll is quiet at 1:35 a.m., As I try to clear my head. It's as though I've blinked and everything has changed. It's been happening for a long time, I know, But then again, That's how it always is, Isn't it? thoughts of a sleepless poet dipped in hear...
05:00
your eyes are the colour of drowning and every time I look at you I feel the air escaping my lungs
