❝ p o l l y ❞

{ 9 }

you had cigarettes stuck in your

curls and your lips

were dry roads of cracked desert

lands.

you looked up at me with two

shattered orbs the colour of

winter nights and you said my

name Polly,

you said my name twice,

and the third was an inaudible

utter.

I took you home,

tucked you in and left you

there before you could wake up.

i know it was rather idiotic but I had

to,

I had to see if our seashells still

are under your nightstand,

instead, I found a pack of

cigarettes and some

blades.

j.c.