first poem after he
critiqued my poems
a poem on him
you run in my mind
like it's a cloverfield
like you're used to running in circles
altough that's a weird thing to do
I wish you didn't
but I get used to it
I show you secret paths
trough my forrests
or carefully planted gardens
you run back into the field
and you leave spit on my petals
a poem on him
you run in my mind
like it's a cloverfield
like you're used to running in circles
altough that's a weird thing to do
I wish you didn't
but I get used to it
I show you secret paths
trough my forrests
or carefully planted gardens
you run back into the field
and you leave spit on my petals
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Ik heb een illustrator nodig me meer talent dan mij...
of een leraar, zoda ik het toch zelf kan doen