It's in afternoons of pouring sweet rain
Blankets
And silly games
That he creeps back into her mind
Just as softly as a lullaby
And he sticks like glue
Determined to remain present at the back of her mind
The image of his smile, forever pressed against her eyes
And the sweet sound of his voice, pouring in her ears
She remembers the time when she wished they could be eternal
Now everything ephemeral is pure relief
YOU ARE READING
Deadly - Poetry
Poetry/Feel free to kill me anytime. Isn't that what you were made for?/
