We watch the sun set,
Snow falling quietly as it does.
Don't want to leave yet,
As I grab her hand and glove.
I gaze at her eyes,
Bright and full of life, hazel.
Wipe her tears as she cries,
And we watch as the fire blazes.
In this moment I know,
I love her more than I love myself.
Her hair is covered in snow,
Contrasting the black she didn't buy from a shelf.
Her skin is so pale and white,
As she talks about how he left her.
She's no longer full of life,
And I tell her he was a bad father.
YOU ARE READING
Mistaken
PoetryA book of poems about the LGBT, depression, selfharm, suicide, freedom, and society.
