His eyes are hazel,
His eyes are a deep brown,
His eyes are the brightest blue
Memories of them
Flicker
In my mind,
Their laughter,
Their smiles,
Silly things they have said
After each thought,
Each flashback,
Each memory
Of a more
Innocent
Time,
I wait for the
Slight
Stab
In a place
Somewhere in my chest
Where my heart
Used
To
Be
But today,
There is
None.
Does that mean
That I have
No heart at all?
Or that
I have finally conquered
My
Ghosts
YOU ARE READING
Wander
Poésie*ongoing W.I.P.* A new year's resolution of mine, writing one poem every day. Some poems will be pure folly, fictional whims of my weird and sometimes wild imagination. But most of them will be true, heartbreakingly or hilariously, for better or fo...
