MEMORIES
He crucified my heart
on a cross of memories
and then called himself
my hero.
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He would dip his quill
into the palette of memories
we forged together
and begin to ink me
into the few crumpled pages of his life
but as my silhouette faded into the sunlight
the maps of love he drew
onto my flesh
seethed with desire
as if they were etched yesterday
If he had to leave, couldn't he take
the wreck of memories with him?
YOU ARE READING
12 Shades of Love
PoetryA book tainted with the vibrant shades of love, coated with poetry to tell a love story
