he asked me why i don't write anymore,
that's why i stared deeply into his eyes
so deep that i could've drowned—
but didn't.
so i looked away
and let his warmth drift me back to sleep,
maybe
he'd know why.
YOU ARE READING
Skyless constellations
Poetrya compilation of anything; the things that my mind and pen nudges me to put into paper. read if you have time to spare
