green, yellow, red with views
warm, cinnamon dewy hues
dripping from the mugs we used
and still, there is no word from you
from blooming days we met anew
to frosted nights we said adieu
the budding of our friendship knew
our leaves would fade and fall so soon
so here i sit, few months past due
thinking of a word or two
something, perhaps, to connect us through
yet still, there is no word from you
YOU ARE READING
there is a girl
Poetrythe journeys of feeling the ups-and-downs in mere minutes. a collection of poems about self-love, neuroticism, grief, romance, and internal struggle.
