Your toothbrush is still by my sink. Your shirt is still hanging in my closet. Your favorite wax is still in my drawer. And your scent still lingers by my pillow. It's been a month. And I still haven't gotten rid of your things. Maybe I'm still hoping you'd come back for them. Or maybe I'm just hoping you'd come back for me.
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
