He was nineteen yet his favourite hobby still remained watching the rain and wander through the fields. He lived his life like a butterfly meandering between flowers unaware of a spider weaving a web for him in a corner. He had been eyeing her for quite sometime now. He felt differently about her but hesitated to call...
A collection of poetry, lyrics, and romantic stuff I wrote on my phone whenever, wherever. Different people, all the same emotions, different poems, all written by the same person. Still thinking of you, by the way.
words unspoken and lost, skittering away to plant themselves on paper. i'd love to hear feedback [it may or may not be vital for my self esteem]; thanks for taking the time to read my sad, silly thoughts. [lowercase intended.]