Shadows of leaves on his face,
Chamomile tea brewing from the next room.
It's four o' clock in the afternoon,
the world felt different.
Ivory pages of an old leather journal,
Delicate fingers tracing carefully-written letters.
He read to me poems of his past,
I lied awake waiting for my story.
Sunset looked like the sky was burning,
Tattoo of my name on his wrist next to a heart.
I'm falling head first in the water,
where the cliff was higher than I expected.
YOU ARE READING
What Love Used To Look Like
Poetry"What Love Used To Look Like" is a collection of short prose, poems, and contemplations about love, hurt, disappointments, and brokenness anyone experiences or has experienced at least once in their short lives. The collection intends to show the di...
