She is a book I am still hooked on,
A book I never got to finish,
Leftover pages torn on.
Months have passed but I still remember her face,
Her smile, her lips, her mouth and the poisoned words that made me insane.
Any minute with her and I couldn't complain,
Now our time is out and I am left in vain.
The pain I caused her, the guilt of it still pours over me like heavy rain.
Time has passed, so has people around me, but her un-read pages still haunt me to this date.
What could I have? What I couldn't do?
Those are the only questions now that remain at the thought of her image.
➳➳➳➳➳➳➳
Yes this is the very same ex from the previous poem.
Yes I am just THAT pathetic.
✨Spoiler alert✨
The next quote will be about her aswell
YOU ARE READING
˜"*°•.˜"*°• 3Am poems and Prompts •°*"˜.•°*"˜
PoesíaWriters block is fucking me as I can't write so, my 3am brain thought.. OH! why not post all those stupid poems you have on your instagram thinking someone would recognise your work! Spoiler: They don't. I am not sure about people here so yeah...
