Poppy the Poet
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'Wasted Love' paperback available to purchase below:
A Song of Sorrow
I saw him as someone he wasn’t – someone filled with goodness instead of the festering calamity that actually inhabited him. His touch was like lightning, and I’d always loved storms. I thought eyes seeing me meant a heart loving me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The Word We Fear and Crave
Love is the letter I wrote to you but never sent because the words meant more than the little moments you never cared to notice. Love is the warm tears pooling in my eyes when your smile falters. Love is the healing that trickles through the gaps in my fingers when I hold my hands out to you.
It will happen in math class when the boy next to you touches your leg and electricity freckles your skin like fireworks. You’ll be holding your breath and hoping the people around you can’t hear your heart as it riots in your chest. And you’ll smile at him because he won’t be paying attention to anyone else and his closeness will feel foreign to you, but he will feel unnaturally familiar, like déjà vu and a new recurring dream.