The knuckles click
as her face rests
fingers still
I write,
she looks- me, the walls, the screen
She- my poem
I wonder… is she
angry or in love…
Not with me…
Am I…
In love… Not with her
for she’s my poem,
my love.
The knuckles click
as her face rests
fingers still
I write,
she looks- me, the walls, the screen
She- my poem
I wonder… is she
angry or in love…
Not with me…
Am I…
In love… Not with her
for she’s my poem,
my love.