The stop signs of Ebele boulevard no longer remind me of the zillion drives we took, late, on neon nights; squeezing tight on our leather seats, as we drifted haphardly against the starless sky towards the mild curve of the horizon. I no longer remember you joking about the dozen pages I'd written when alone, or the familiar smirk you make when you know for sure I'm wrong on a subject...
This hands no longer remember the tricks it played on your hair, or the warmt of your hands.
We drifted too far apart, like the car on wet tar, drifts away from the walkways and back again. I'm peeved now, because I couldn't pick the right path to walk through back to you
And sun-filled summer days became blunt autumn nights and the classics; a brunette girl and a boy in every story that's incomplete--an accidental lovestory
Now the suburbs linger in relish of your lilac scent; but I'll try crossing each asphalt without you in mind, for I hope someday, someplace, you and I would have found the true meaning of happiness.
YOU ARE READING
Forgotten Letters
PoetryI think poetry is one of the greatest outlets for bottled up emotions and words best left unsaid. So, this book is just another one of my outlets and I hope while you may find yourself relating or not, you may still be able to enjoy this poetry as i...
