In between,
Your guitar riffs,
I still remember
The ghost of
Your smile
Still on my lips
Salt and water.
In between
Being your muse,
As you painted me
In rhythm, jazz and blues.
My head cannot
Hear anything
But your
Lonesome tunes
You continue to
Haunt my sheets.
My ink dries
And the paper
Turns to dust.
The music seems so hollow.
But, it lingers on my tongue.
You're my favourite song.
You listened to me, instead.
YOU ARE READING
Mirage.
PoetryDisclaimer : I do not own the pictures, used with my poems. They are the property of their creators.