she sees something in me, but in the same way she sees something in a broken toy or a ditzy plant
but when she looks at you, she sees a golden sunset, a relieving summer breeze, she sees the green plants on her windowsill on a rainy cool spring day
And I know ill never compare
and I know my crooked shadow will never compare to your blinding light
YOU ARE READING
Hopes of a dreamer
PoetryJust crappy drabbles I pass of as poems every now and then. Most of these aren't to be taken seriously, some aren't even based in reality. Criticism is encouraged
