Author: Clara
Just found a poem I wrote 5 years ago, and I thought it was adorable. Thought I’d send it here.
I keep a pair in the back of the drawer
the ones with thin red lines that never matched.
You wore them once
when the rain turned the street into wet glass
and neither of us spoke the whole way home.
I slip them on some nights
when the house is too quiet
and the day has no shape.
The stripes climb my ankles
like quiet, unfinished sentences
circling the same small truth
we never said out loud.
This is so sweet and kinda sad at the same time, like the memory of an old friend I think? :’]
Your poems speak to me