Perhaps I care
too much, a little
over the top
but forgive me please
that the
thought of the fingerprints
that quite apparently
you can never wash off
are the things I tend to see
when the lights are off
when I
cannot see your eyes
the one single things
that tell me you're mine
in the dark, our minds
get lost
and yours;
yours was fumbling for way to long-
and maybe I allowed to leave you there;
dancing in your own despair
but I was faithful
a faithful liar
you were neither,
though I was wrong
you could hardly know
the loyalty that was wafted deep inside
I belonged to you,
but you weren't mine
waited a day too long
while you couldn't wait at all.
YOU ARE READING
Existent
PoetryHighest rank: #23 In poetry. A compilation of Poems about love, heart break, depression and everything in between really. Black, white, and of course, a dose of grey.