i was tired,
the kind of tired that sleep couldn't fix.
and his eyes,
they were the colour of coffee,
enough to keep me up at night.
n° 76
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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝┊✓
Poetrys t a r s ❝magic tumbled from her pretty lips and when she spoke the language of the universe-the stars sighed in unison.❞ -michael faudet highest ranking n° 9 in thepeopleofsociety | 23 june 2018 n° 2 in intellectual | 30 july 2018 n° 1 in incon...
setenta e seis
i was tired,
the kind of tired that sleep couldn't fix.
and his eyes,
they were the colour of coffee,
enough to keep me up at night.
n° 76
