Your face is the only clear thing among this mural of black scribbles called life. You are the cold nervous hand that just won't let go of the branch that connects to your favorite tree. And that tree is what wisdom and beauty nurtured together. You know what's important. And I hope you know I can't take my mind off you because of this. Because of all of what you are. In this two dimensional world you stood with all your corners, humble yet full of courage. And you held my hand and heart, you didn't care what I'm made of.
YOU ARE READING
Pinwheels and Dead Leaves
PoetryThis is a compilation of my works in the year of 2016. I was pretty active that year, really inspired by love and friends, and started reading and discussing philosophical things. It was also the year that our group the Ice Cream Club did the 100 da...
