I loathe to ask, do i cross your mind?
Or did i just end up where i usually am, falling behind?
Are we just something that turned to dust?
Though i hate to ask, i must.
We laughed and loved and shared our hearts galore, yet.. Still, we've fallen to the floor.
So now i ask, as if to relate.
Do i still linger, inside of your mindscape?
YOU ARE READING
The final strike
PuisiThis is my last poem book. If i get any crap about it, or someone makes fun of my poems. No more book. And most likely, no more stories forever. Enjoy it while you can
