dear oliver,
we haven’t talked.
for three days. it’s
just been three days
and man, do i miss you.
quinn
YOU ARE READING
zero
PoetryQuinn scribbles tainted emotions across thin layers of white paper. But to who? To someone who blinks once, sees her, and blinks again-just to make her disappear. To someone who sees her as a symbol of the ocean. To someone who thinks the ocean is...
lxiii.
dear oliver,
we haven’t talked.
for three days. it’s
just been three days
and man, do i miss you.
quinn
