THIRTY
unwillingly yours
You are the secret that I keep hidden
down the street and beneath the sheets.
How many times can I tip the window seal?
Your bed lays deeper than mine
when we are both lost in the depths of it.
Find me where the walls do not conceal,
what the comforter does not cover.
You whisper what we can have if I stay the night,
but we both know I always leave.
― Unwillingly
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May
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PoetryMELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. Here, I will speak the sadness, the heartache, and the decaying for all the unspoken. Perhaps under this layer of melancholy, the girl I once knew still exists. First poetry collection i...
