Between Books and Broken Hearts

In my first year of college I knew a boy; a boy that set off sticks of dynamite in my heart. This is my account of wanting to be his lover, but never getting the chance. 

-Sincerely, Tiffany Rose.

 

Between books and broken hearts.

I feel our minds could speak a thousand sentences to one another. 

Yet our

           Lips

                  are sealed

                                    shut.

 

 

Glances and eye rolls,                                              glances and eye rolls.

             When is it our turn to share sips and tips on living life when you’re empty

                                                            and numb?

Lives on opposing bar stools.

   Slumped shoulders in combination with glasses of potent drink mixtures are what keep

                                                              our

             fingers shaking                       and                        minds racing.

 

Except my glass is

                                                        half empty

                                                        and yours is

                                                        half full.

Different pages of the same hardback novel

Fragile pages,

                                         mildly ripped,

                                                                                 but severely adored.

                           Breakable, Exhausting, and frenzied

                                That is my affection for you.

Obviously

Was She The Only One?