What is grief if not love unexpressed?
Their touch, smell and every other thing etched to your memory, Like a sore song that has turned to an ear-worm.
Sometimes burning aflame, with no possible amount of water to quench.
You get scorched in it!
And yet, there remains a warmth that sometimes embrace you,
Without you knowing.
YOU ARE READING
Pieces of Me
RandomA collection of poems that I believe are the essence of me and my truth. It encapsulates my love, my thoughts and so essentially they are the pieces of me. I hope you find them soulful just as I do.
