What's left behind
— I hate how the rain pelts the rooftop, I hate the puddles of water it creates outside my door.
I hate how the radio plays the song you used to sang for me, played over and over. I hate the stillness of the room, the neat arrangement of chairs and that solitary mug on the table.
I hate how everything around me reminds me of your absence. And hate myself even more for searching for whatever left of you behind every closed doors.
YOU ARE READING
Under The Late October Skies
PoésieI am looking for the kind of love that is worthy of me and my words. ☽☀☾ -You will lose yourself in nirvana on this very surface and then- i will teach you how to navigate the stars knowing that even if you lose me, you will find your way back. ...
