You're a poem that is made
by calloused fingers and restless mind.
Your ink runs through a piece of paper like blood
and your words speak with clarity straight through my heart.
You make me feel inexplicate things.
You're a poem that breathes.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts Left Unsaid
Poetry. ✈ • un·said (ˌənˈsed/) - тнoυgнт вυт noт мenтιoned oυт loυd or dιѕcυѕѕed - noт eхpreѕѕe...
