On lonesome nights and endless hours of daylight, words on pages are all I had.
Don't ask me to leave them behind,
they are truer friends than you could ever be.
No, don't ask me to come live in reality, it holds neither the charm nor the magic.
Let me live in all those strange, beautiful lands.
Words on paper are all I need.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
YOU ARE READING
Window pain
PoetryThis book is but a humble attempt at encapsulating life and all its flavours. It is an ode to the sad days and melancholy nights. For grief that stays alive even after years have passed. Musings of longings and dreams of escape. And a protest agai...
