xiii. them
"so, what are you doing out here
on such a cold night?"
he asked,
looking over at her small figure
and taking in her beautiful blonde hair
"i was just thinking
about how life is pretty pointless,"
she muttered, looking up at him,
"and how strange it is
to meet a stranger
who thinks the same strange thing
when he comes to such a strange place."
he smirked, amused,
"stranger things have happened
on stranger days."
"yeah," she nodded,
"i guess they have."
YOU ARE READING
Momentary
Poetry[lowercase intended; novel written in verse] even if for a moment, they could be infinite Copyright © mavericks_
