There are wilted flowers on the
windowsill, their vase small and
cracked, the water long since
evaporated.
The wallpaper is faded and
torn, long strips of it
hanging down like
decaying leaves.
She looks up from
her notebook at
a faint memory etched
upon her skin.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
There are wilted flowers on the
windowsill, their vase small and
cracked, the water long since
evaporated.
The wallpaper is faded and
torn, long strips of it
hanging down like
decaying leaves.
She looks up from
her notebook at
a faint memory etched
upon her skin.
Fuelled by the more melancholy, lonely side of sunny days and a constant supply of apple juice.
