Laying, softly on the smooth freshly cleaned sheets but still drenched with your cologne,still filled with the images of you on them, on me.
Me, under you.
Trying to rid you from my memory with the empty cans of beer beside me on my bed side.
I can't get you out of my head but my breath stenches from the beer.
My throat burns but you, you are still in my head.
So, I tear my bed sheets of the bed and throw them in the laundry
I rearrange my room but the images of you are still there and I still remember the smell of your cologne.
Still filled with you on them and you on me.
~E.M.C
YOU ARE READING
Hurt Beyond Repair.
PoetryHurt and frightened and no where to turn except for my journal. Curse words being streamed at me and you would have thought I had a father for a sailor. ~E.M.C Many poems focusing on the subject of Mental Illness, that many suffer with and the su...
