dear oliver,
i didn’t know.
i’m sorry.
please.
no.
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...
xxxviii.
dear oliver,
i didn’t know.
i’m sorry.
please.
no.
quinn
