There is something to say about how tight you hold my hand, the handle, the pillow, how tight you hold your heart against your chest
Never has it once a felt your sleeve
Afraid it might tie itself too quickly with the cotton and potentially ruin the style you pursued
YOU ARE READING
Not Quite, Midnight | poems
Poetry~she sets out to write for herself but casts a line from her ship of lunatics in case there was someone adrift trying to read along.
