Before I woke, from my slumber
No one wanted my number
Nobody wanted pics
Nobody wanted lips
On mine
And I say again that's fine
I didn't want it in the first place
I'm rubbish on first dates
Nobody wants to cuddle and just watch the clouds
Sing and read poetry aloud
And novels in the trees
Tickles from the holes in your jumper
Through the breeze
We can sit and talk in Jersey Grill
Sipping hot chocolate I'll no doubt spill
Watching shapes on the yellow walls
Groovy milkshakes from the market stalls
No one wants bobble hats and wristbands
Sit in artist cafes
And put their feet in the sand
No more roller skates and broken china plates
No more gentle kissing and alliterations
Steam trains, counting the stations
No more writing in books with yellow markers
YOU ARE READING
Words Of The Dead- Words Of The Living- #Wattys2019
Poésie#1 in poetry- 26/7/18 Every day, thousands of people struggle with mental and physical illnesses, fighting battles people refuse to talk about. I'm here to change that. This poetry collection shines a light on mental illness, hopefully saving a few...
