four months ago,
his mother's face was once cracked
but this time it is shattered.
she told me
things about him.
the boy who built me a home
in himself,
who was wasn't afraid
of anything,
the boy who wrote poetry
like he was pouring out
to the entire world.
she told me
of things he can't
tell me anymore.
YOU ARE READING
flowers
Poesíaa memory in poems. [copyright 2019 © neutralfleur] completed: Nov, 2016.
