hi
I am Owlette
and I am sorry.
I left you standing the hallway with the jagged pieces of you heart cutting into your mind
as I looked down, swallowing the lump in my throat.
hi
I am Owlette
and I regret not telling you that you make my life better just by stepping into a room
and that when we make eye contact my heart bursts into flames and I become a cornucopia of emotions.
hi
I am Owlette
and I wish that I could see your face.
YOU ARE READING
Motel
Poetrywhat is a book other than a motel where I check my thoughts in and you check them out? a collection of poems I wrote but never published.
