They say you never forget your first love,
And I thought that was a lie.
Because I kept loving others after you,
And left you far behind.
But now I look at the way I hold hands,
your influence lingers in my touch.
It seems that every song I write
Captures your essence too much.
I'm not saying I'm running back,
until death do us part.
Yet there is a shadow of what could have been
Cast upon my heart.
YOU ARE READING
Under the Sycamore Tree
PoesíaA collection of poems I have written from the times where my mind runs wild with love, anger, sadness, regret, you name it. It's my tangible way of reeling myself in and taking my mind to a place of peace and familiarity: sitting underneath the syca...
