i have turned your pages over and
back again
a million times, and i still don't know
what i'm missing.
i should be able to read you,
see you;
but you're a mystery i can't uncover.
a cold case.
you lived, and yet you died,
you're different
but you're here and i'm grateful.
you're here.
but the spine of your book
is broken
and the corners are frayed,
pieces lost.
i miss the old you but i'm accepting
the new,
it's difficult but i'm trying so hard
to get you.
someday i'll be able to read you like
i used to,
and maybe you'll be able to
read me too.
i miss you
and i love you
YOU ARE READING
Evanescence - a book of poetry
Poesiai don't write very often but it's nice to share some stuff, so don't go raising your expectations. some poetry comes from experiences and feelings and other pieces have nothing to do with me at all; that's the beauty of words.
