My hands are outstretched,
chipped green nail polish
decorating broken tips.
I want to ask if you are listening,
if you care,
if you even still remember the
everything
we created.
I stay silent.
At the end of the movie,
we walk off into the sunset,
victorious;
no one ever told me
I might
be the person behind the camera
and now
it's too late.
Don't forget me.
YOU ARE READING
Pure ~ A Collection of Poetry
PoetryA simple collection of poems I've put together, meant to get you thinking. I wrote some and gathered some, but if you don't like poetry, don't read. ;) RANKED #356 IN POETRY ON 7/27/2016!
