YOU ARE READING

Poetry

and no matter how much you water scorched grass and withering weeds, you will never make a garden re-grow -M.R c.2016

Her

14 0 0

by -aesthete-

by -aesthete-

I look at the stars and think about her,
how she means everything to me.
She is all that I'd ever need,
but I wonder,
how does she feel about me?

Is she looking at the sunset I see right now?
Probably not.
She will never get to see its beauty,
much like she refuses to see her own.

And I'll continue to write,
and dream about one day.
The day when I'll finally have the courage to ask,
about her and me.