We were sitting on the swings, talking all night long,
I got lost in your eyes, I knew that's where I belong.
The words left my mouth before I thought,
Now that's the only thing I got.
With your hand on my tight,
All the memories are floading in my mind.
We spent the night together in your bed,
Closing the door with things that stayed unsaid.
YOU ARE READING
Drunk under a Streetlight | poetry
Poetrypoetry /ˈpəʊɪtri/ noun literary work in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature.
