You wrapped your arms around me
And I felt safe.
You warmed my cold skin
And I praised you.
You told me not to thank you
And well I guess you were right.
I can't blame you
Because it's not your fault
Or maybe it is?
But what little warmth I felt
Is lost,
And I find myself searching
For something I never owned.
YOU ARE READING
Lachrymose
PoetryLachrymose /ˈlakrɪməʊs,ˈlakrɪməʊz/ adjective tearful or given to weeping. A collection of amateur prose and poetry illustrating the inner turmoil. Mainly a dumping ground for loose thoughts and ideas to be interpreted in whatever manner.
