—another day
spins to the night you sing
while words you listen
haunt me for a season
i'll never ignore
i just fear i can't maintain
feels of letting you walk away
without taking you home
words aren't just a foreplay
whispered secrets that built us
buried one which destroyed us
used to call it spaces that last
wonder why
i never wrote a single poetry—
when we were together
maybe because i was caught up
in a living dream, or—
am i dreaming reality?
so pardon me
if i'm being lost again
in the pages of same words
still i smoke too much.
but alcohol is just a way to sleep—
for a melancholic coffee drinker.
like me
YOU ARE READING
despite all the bitter words
Poetryit turns out that in the end, everything will be the same as others anyway, no matter how many times they convinced you that they will never do this to you, no matter how many tears you're going to shed about it, no matter how many songs you made th...
