I'd kiss you as to say goodbye,
You held me 'till the moment died,
Our love wasn't supposed to pass by,
I thought it would last on your bedside.
Can't you see that everything is going fine,
The feelings you give me are the same old lullaby.
How did we not keep this for our heart,
Instead they talk for what we are.
The locket should have never broke,
The doors shouldn't have let in the smoke.
Now everything is gray and dusted,
Now I only see the parts that rusted.
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.
