Scattered around my half-made bed
are books half incomplete.
Half of your painting now
stares me down from the easel,
Half of the unwritten poems
await in the abandoned sheets.
That’s me,
unfinished.
Half of my….
Scattered around my half-made bed
are books half incomplete.
Half of your painting now
stares me down from the easel,
Half of the unwritten poems
await in the abandoned sheets.
That’s me,
unfinished.
Half of my….