Your touch cold as ice, no light, no spark.
the cold wires that you once used to warm up torn apart by your cold.
The light I needed, I craved, I knew, died along with your warmth, as my heart slowly turned cold as you left with my spark
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryThoughts that flow like water in my mind are written down on a digitale device to let you be carried away. Call it poems, quotes. Call it what you want it to be called. See how people can think the same about something. Feel understood. Read them...
