In the vibrating skyline past the loneliest of my fears, I remember the way that your lips felt on mine that frail saturday afternoon when the years that lay between me and her finally seemed to look less like death.
In the restaurant yesterday, I found a table for myself, searched the menu for your memories, unfortunately they didn't have any, much like myself, now.
I mean to ask you if you were alright but you're too far away for my words to matter. In a sense it has always been that way.
I tell the world that sadness is merely a seven letter word but do they notice how i try to end the sentence to quickly so I don't have to be brave for too long?
We ghost in and out of our lives, trying to make sure we don't feel too much, so when it is time to go, there isn't too much packing to done, just a lonely suitcase carrying our emptiness.
They say, you need to lose people to turn them into poetry
and my dear, you and I, through the chains of time, have always been that.
--thesayanishere
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YOU ARE READING
Life.
PoetryThis isn't a story. Just a compilation of my favorites! All the credits to respective people.
