her love for him was an open book and he wasn't fond of reading
PANIC
Yesterday, burglars attacked me snuck in through my navel slithered through the gaps under the door of my mind tromped over and intruded my body a heist of calm state and innocence captured my breath, tamed my soul ruptured my walls and windows, cracks turned into sinkholes aggressively pulling out my innards my hefty veins intermittently becoming …
I’D WRITE ABOUT YOU
Maybe my words don't have value as much as yours... but I'd still write about you. I'd write about you on empty music sheets and dusky dawn, through the corners of an old hallway, through freezing glass windows on a Monday morning, through sunsets and good nights that were never said. I'd write about you …