I miss hearing your voice
and seeing those eyes light up,
whenever I started talking first on a call.
I miss seeing you doing such stupid things
and talking in the weirdest ways
and making my heart flutter constantly.
I miss talking constantly.
I miss the endless texts of this thing and that
and how you seemed to sew me together
with just a sentence.
I miss the late night texts,
when I fell asleep first
just an hour before you woke up.
I miss you.
And I talk about you as if you're dead,
but truthfully,
it's just us that is dead.
------------------------
This is a poem I just wrote a minute ago. I hope you like it.
YOU ARE READING
Deception
PoetryA collection of poems I've written over a couple of years. Hoping to be published someday. Excerpt --------- When in reality I feel everything from the death that was not mine, to the cuts I did not make. ( "Machine" )