Tears rolled gently off my face and onto my wooden desk.
The thought of her finally at rest...
I grab this old journal, one we shared.
I slowly open it watching my hand slightly tremble.
She'd always been poorly scared.
The first page had the first photo glued onto it,
It was us smiling so pure, and so preciously.
And every moment, and every bit,
Just now seems dreadfully wasted.
A tiny tap sound hit the paper.
It was another one of my tears.
She'd always want to be an escaper,
And it'd always be first on my fears.
And it will always linger.
It will always haunt my mind, the sickening observation that at the top of my mind,
my head, my hair would become grizzled.
I wish someday life would bring her.
But every day she gets farther,
The memories run from me.
My heartbeat paces slower,
My soul replaces glee
with only sadness.
Eventually, I will remember nothing.
it will be a delusion of old madness.
I will see things, that are never true.
I will become more and more blue,
As my memory runs and runs.
And as she, fades and fades.
Farther and farther.
Who am I anymore
Without her?
YOU ARE READING
Maeve's Poetry
PoetryThis is a bundle of my poems. Yes, those I write too. Feedback is always allowed! These poems may not be pretty, and some may be. These poems are the plump heart to darkness and light. Red, and grim, but still beating, and now in your hand, I give y...
