Who are you?
I'm starting to forget.
I'm starting to forget you.
Just as though you are starting to forget me.
No more you.
No more me.
No more us.
Maybe we're running out of time.
Maybe we're running on fumes.
Maybe we're running on leftover love.
You care more about yourself than you do anything else.
The way you look.
The way you present yourself.
Who you are.
I don't know you anymore.
I don't want to know this "you" anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Roses In The Sun
PoetryA book dedicated to the thoughts that lie beneath the surface of all that I am, all that I will be, and all that I hope to become. A book dedicated to the outcasts, to those who've felt invisible, to those who want to read and fall in love with the...
