Photo by Bastien Jaillot on Unsplash

White flag, green hills, blue dreams, black night, red heart.
Heavy bag. Hanging long passed midnight.
Maybe 3am but who’s counting sheeps?
Sleepless, tireless teens.
I’m 17, she’s freaking 15.
Our eyes are wet, have been rarely met.
We’re speechless, max 30 words have been spoken.
Are we? heart-broken..
On the tip of my tongue, an unfamiliar combination..
Times goes by.. we don’t…



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Cormoran Lee

Cormoran Lee


I pour my heart involuntarily into words, since I found that writing is the ultimate solution for a nightmarish sailing journey. I can still connect with you :)