“I wrote your name at the top of my paper.
But you wrote mine in a crumpled scratch,
dropped it inside a jar with the other names that you gathered,
thinking that when you’re bored you’ll get one of the folded papers,
read the name in it,
and tell them you love them.
You are my only thing,
but I am just one of your options.”
YOU ARE READING
Hey You, Stranger!
PoetrySometimes, when things seem to fall down, and when we can't see anyone around to help us pick the fallen pieces up, we tend to do it by ourselves in silence. But I don't want for us to stay living with that mindset, because I still believe that help...
