she was exquisite as she looked out into the distance, waiting for her coffee to cool down
I would watch her as she sat in the same spot every day
as if this was her escape from something far away
But what was it?
Is she debating on leaving someone or life it’s self?
Or the memories she placed on a shelf?
What about Rent?
Is she late?
Or was it a letter she sent?
Is it the boy who makes her wait?
wait for every day that her energy fades away
certainly, it wasn’t the cold weather
because her face would brighten up as soon as she saw the first snowflake
I feel like her name is Heather
surely it wasn’t Blake
She was creative, and I'm sure of it
due to the overload of sketchbooks and pencils that were jammed inside of her purse
they were losing their color like how the fresh leaves abandon us with some remorse
I bet she's a writer too
because as she wrote, she would stop for a moment and glance outside for something new
At times I wish I could be courageous enough to say hey
but every time I do, I panic and forget what to say
she was the girl in the coffee shop
and I was the boy who wished to have the ***** to introduce myself before I stopped
cuz maybe, somehow she could have lived for another day
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 6:02 PM UTC
she was exquisite as she looked out into the distance, waiting for her coffee to cool down
I would watch her as she sat in the same spot every day
as if this was her escape from something far away
But what was it?
Is she debating on leaving someone or life it’s self?
Or the memories she placed on a shelf?
What about Rent?
Is she late?
Or was it a letter she sent?
Is it the boy who makes her wait?
wait for every day that her energy fades away
certainly, it wasn’t the cold weather
because her face would brighten up as soon as she saw the first snowflake
I feel like her name is Heather
surely it wasn’t Blake
She was creative, and I'm sure of it
due to the overload of sketchbooks and pencils that were jammed inside of her purse
they were losing their color like how the fresh leaves abandon us with some remorse
I bet she's a writer too
because as she wrote, she would stop for a moment and glance outside for something new
At times I wish I could be courageous enough to say hey
but every time I do, I panic and forget what to say
she was the girl in the coffee shop
and I was the boy who wished to have the ***** to introduce myself before I stopped
cuz maybe, somehow she could have lived for another day
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