I'll gather up memories
And put them in a box
So I can pull them out on rainy days
And the days we barely talk
They remind me of who we were
Before the ticking of the clock
Turned our love into faded dreams
I'll feel what we forgot
YOU ARE READING
The Fear of Drowning Deep
PoetryShe was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful something to be admired from a distance not up close. - A little talent is a good thing to have if you ever want to be a writer. But the only real requirement is the ability to remember every...
