i am soft blankets,
music,
and wistfulness.
he is old books,
colored lights,
and the smell of coffee.
the dot above the i
the curl of the c
the laughter laced with sadness
that boiled deep within our masses.
YOU ARE READING
maybe i'm dreaming (COMPLETED)
Poetrya sky full of poems, none of which connect (stars without constellations) this is a compilation of almost every aspect of my life in poems, as well as some fictional elements too i hope you enjoy my cemetery of secrets -lowercase is intended for sty...
