I thought
Your work was loving me
Now I stand in the background,
My hand upon a small part of you,
I hold to myself
Soon to be gone;
Just like me.
Your work was to love me
Yet now,
I hath become a forgotten page in your book;
Soon to tear apart.
YOU ARE READING
After You Left
Poesiacomplete poetry collection, over 70 poems from my darkest times and issues with love
