You always loved the drawing. I always admired the margin.
While you plan the daydream, I woke up with a nightmare.
As you smile in hues of rainbows, all I loved was the rainshows.
We're out of touch.
We're far in line.
We're contrasts—the parallel lines.
TPL. 04182020.
YOU ARE READING
When You're Not Looking
ŞiirFor the love of poems, proses, words, and stuffs. Just a girl who wished to conquer the heights with love but less of your prejudice. I write rhymes so you can hear my heart. I write them as the whirling thoughts escaping my mind. So if you happ...
