All I could think about is Stella, so I wrote a poem.
I got to have her.
She's a zebra,
And I am the lion.
I need her to survive.
You keep me alive.
I fell asleep with my notebook in my hand and with the thought of her in my mind.
YOU ARE READING
The Leftovers
Teen FictionI had become a leftover. I am nothing more than a plate of food he forgets about, And soon he will dispose of me. He comes to me when he is hungry for love, I feed him hoping he'll stay, But he leaves. Because that's all I am to him, Just a leftover.
