we say good night but it's the morning,
so we say good morning and laugh.
he tells me "it's getting late, you should sleep."
and i agree.
but i'm still there, watching the glow of my screen.
he's there too, before signing off.
but we're both still sitting, silent.
YOU ARE READING
White Out (Poetry Collection)
Poetryyou weren't supposed to see this. •••••••••• a diary of imagination; a life where the lines are blurred. a memoir of things that never happened, and a few that did.
