No matter how many times I try putting to mind every single detail of a picturesque scene, I could never draw nor paint it. All my life, I know one thing is for certain: I have an artistic finger. From flowers to trees to architectures; all most come from my state of imagery and not from memory.
Because I suck at memorising.
But somehow, when it comes to him, it's different.
I know every curve and line of his face.
I know his smile; the way his eyes would also smile.
I memorise the length of his fingers, so long and callous.
If I lose my memories, for certain I'll remember his face.
With him, I spare no detail.
YOU ARE READING
The Hollow Shell ✔️
Poetry"Those empty eyes you have. That hollow heart you hold. Sometimes I wonder, If you have ever loved me at all." -Empty
