gone is
the girl
i used
to love,
gone is
the fingers
that filled
the spaces
between mine,
gone is
the eyes
that stared
at me
with the
feelings inside,
orbs that
watched me
sleep at night,
wrapped around
her arms,
and gone is
the lips that
covers mine,
the sweetest
taste.
but the
tingling feeling
is still inside
my heart,
leaking,
from the
cracks that
she left,
itching from
the scars and
stiches,
longingness
from the warmth
of hers.
—time machine
chronicles;
