i sit on the floor
wrapping my cold hands around myself
pretending they're his
i know he's gone
he's dead
i wish he wasn't
i want him to hold me
i want to be his little girl
i want to go fishing with him
i can't do anything
but sit on the floor
and talk
hoping he can hear me
YOU ARE READING
the poems from the heart.
Poetryi write from the heart, words spill out as i type mindlessly, i love to write, and if you're like me, or even not at all. enjoy the words i share, and find love in mine.
